


OtherWhen, Part I

by flamethrower



Series: Re-Entry [9]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, GFY, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-01
Updated: 2007-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-23 12:42:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamethrower/pseuds/flamethrower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things should remain dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	OtherWhen, Part I

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct continuation from Attainment I & II. If you haven't read those, let alone the rest of the Re-Entry arc, OtherWhen will *not* make sense. 
> 
> Title graphic by Obilupin.

The wave spread, and Obi-Wan understood that there was going to be no stopping it.  Every Jedi on the planet, and possibly some that weren’t, would be affected, and they wouldn’t just See.  They were going to live it, as if his life had been their own.  He regretted the loss of control, his thoughts bitter; the children he would have spared from it.  Where the hell was he going to go with this, anyway?

 

 _My dear Master, the best place to start is always the beginning,_ he heard from Anakin.  Especially since this is going to be the biggest data dump ever.

 

 _Apt description, that,_ Obi-Wan thought.  He found the memory of himself leaving the infirmary, the first time, at the age of sixteen, dizzy and trying not to stumble as he followed his Master home…

 

                                    ____________

 

 

 

“Obi-Wan,” my Master’s voice said.  “Wake up.”

 

I opened my eyes to water hitting me in the face, and wondered why, instead of in bed, I was in the shower with the water running.  “Huh?”

 

“You fell asleep in the shower, Padawan,” my Master said, a hint of teasing in his voice.  “You might want to get out before you drown.”

 

“Oh. Right,” I replied, too tired to feel embarrassed.  I shut off the water and stood there, dripping, and thought vaguely about towels.

 

A large white towel landed on my head, tossed neatly over the shower door by Qui-Gon.  I took it and made a very sad attempt at drying myself with it, feeling like I had all of the ambition of a Narlian slug. 

 

I could see Qui-Gon’s silhouette through the etched glass, but little else.  “There,” he said.  “Think you can manage getting dressed?  We’ve got to get on that transport in an hour.”

 

I thought about it.  At that point, just pouring myself naked into my robe and stumbling down to the Temple hangar was very tempting.

 

“Padawan Tachi is in residence.  You might want to reconsider your choice of wardrobe.”

 

 _Bah,_ I thought, annoyed.  For someone who acted as if she couldn’t stand my presence, Siri Tachi had a serious fascination with my ass. 

 

There was a muted sputter of laughter, and I realized I wasn’t shielding very well.  I frowned and gave my mental walls a close inspection, adding another layer when it seemed the first layer of protection wasn’t doing its job.  “That’s better,” my Master said, a smile in his voice.  “Now, get out of there.”

 

“Yes, Master,” I said obediently, tying the towel around my waist.  Not that my Master hadn’t seen me stumbling around naked before, and vice versa, but I was pretty sure my mental and physical control was shot.  That was an embarrassment that would lead to talks about Padawan Crushes, and I was not in the mood for one of those.  I stepped out of the shower, hissing when my warm feet connected with the cold ‘fresher tile.

 

Qui-Gon gave me a smile that warmed me to my toes.  He gazed at me with his hands planted on his hips.  “I haven’t the faintest idea of what to do with you, Padawan.”

 

I looked back at him innocently.  I could think of a few things.  Stupid Code.  “You could feed your Padawan.  I’ve been told that he just slept for nearly two weeks and could use some nourishment.”  I was amazed by the audacity of my own words.  Apparently I needed to watch what I said while sitting on this level of exhaustion.

 

Qui-Gon merely raised an eyebrow in return, though his blue eyes were dancing with amusement.  “There’s a thought.  Hurry up and get dressed, and maybe we’ll have time for food before we leave.”

 

I nodded and walked past my Master, out of the ‘fresher, and into my own room.  I stared at the bed thoughtfully for a full minute, trying to remember where I had any clean clothing.  “Right.  Closet.  Why didn’t I think of that?” I muttered, finding clean tunics, pants, and a pair of boots that didn’t look like I’d tried to shine them with a razor blade.  I dressed as fast as I could, and didn’t bother with tabards and sash.  I’d probably have botched the job of wearing them properly, anyway.  “Why are we going to Corellia again?” I asked, projecting my voice so that Qui-Gon would be able to hear.  He was in our small kitchen, probably trying to do something with the food I’d made and frozen.  At least, I hoped so – I didn’t think my Master would subject me to commissary food after just escaping from the Healers.

 

My master’s laugh answered me.  “I thought you’d slept through that Council meeting.  Good job, Padawan.  You even fooled Master Windu.”

 

I grinned.  “Yep, that’s me.  Sleep with my eyes open, miss listening to you butt heads with the Council.  I think I need to get hit in the head more often.”

 

There was a distinct pause before Qui-Gon answered me, his voice distraught.  “Please, do not.  I would prefer not to have to see that again.”

 

I bowed my head, horrified with myself.  “I’m sorry, Master,” I said, when I sensed Qui-Gon was now behind me.  “I’ll do better next time, I promise.”

 

“Obi-Wan…” There was a sigh.  “Please turn around.  I refuse to have a conversation with your backside.”

 

I bit my lip and turned around, staring at the floor.  “I’m sorry,” I said again.  “I should have…”

 

“Should have what, Padawan?” Qui-Gon asked me quietly.

 

“I should have done anything other than get myself shot in the head,” I finished, and it sounded lame, even to me.

 

A warm finger was placed under my chin, and gently forced my head up.  I met Qui-Gon’s eyes hesitantly, and found only acceptance and concern there.  Some part of me relaxed at that.  Sometimes it was hard to forget our first months together, and how uncomfortable we both were with my apprenticeship.  “Padawan, I’ve had far longer than you to reflect on your actions on Taro Tre.  You defended yourself against numerous enemies for a very long time, and held your own, despite your unfamiliarity with the weapons you faced.  You handled yourself with far more skill than I sometimes remember to give you credit for.  You are one of the only Padawans in the Temple with that kind of talent with a lightsaber, and it is only going to get better with time and training.  By the time you are a Knight, you are going to be better than I am,” Qui-Gon told me solemnly.

 

I wasn’t sure I believed him.  My Master was considered one of the best duelists in the Order.  “I… thank you, Master.  Though I’ll wait and see, if it’s all the same to you,” I replied, and was surprised to find myself engulfed in my Master’s arms and held tightly.

 

“You’ll believe it soon enough, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon whispered next to my ear.  “In the meantime, try not to get yourself killed. I find that I would miss you… very much.”

 

I closed my eyes, happier than I had been in a long, long time.  Whatever our next mission would bring, I didn’t care – I had this moment to see me through.

 

 

                                    ****    ****    ****    ****

 

 

I stared down at my hand, appalled by the raw, torn skin of my palm and wrist.  Actually, it was hard to find my skin through the blood, but I was trying not to think about that.  If it weren’t for my Master, who was making sure that I felt no pain, I would have seriously considered screaming.  “I think the Force is laughing at me, Master,” I muttered, looking away when Qui-Gon used the silver tweezers from the med-kit to remove another piece of shrapnel.  I glanced down at the floor of our rented room, and grimaced at the bloody pile of metal that had already been pulled from my hand.

 

I was sitting on the room’s only bed, and Qui-Gon was kneeling on the floor in front of me, picking bits of lightsaber casing out of my hand.  I couldn’t be sure, but I thought there were tiny flecks of my lightsaber crystal in the mix, too.

 

“Hmm?” Qui-Gon asked, concentrating on the task at hand.  _Ugh.  Bad pun._   “Did you say something, Padawan?” His brows were furrowed together, eyes narrowed in concentration as he worked to remove the shards from my hand without doing any further damage.  I was holding as still as I could, and felt I was doing an admirable job not to twitch in revulsion as I felt the slide of metal when it was pulled from my flesh.

 

“I said that I think the Force is laughing at me.”  I shut my eyes tightly when another piece of metal was yanked from my skin.  When I opened them again, I cheered inwardly – Qui-Gon was almost done.  I wriggled my fingers, glad that I was still able to do so, and my Master gripped my hand in a silent request for me to hold still.

 

“Why do you think so, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon’s hair, the barest touches of silver shining within it, fell forward as it escaped its binding, and I had to resist an almost overpowering urge to reach out and run my fingers through it. One day, I promised, willing myself to be patient.  Or at least as patient as a sixteen year old human male could be.

 

“You take the time to give me kind words about my skill with a lightsaber, and at the next opportunity, it blows up in my hand,” I said, this time unable to keep myself from cursing at sudden pain, when the last and largest chunk of metal was pulled from my hand.  Qui-Gon gave me an apologetic glance, soothing the sting of the metal’s removal with the Force.  “So, therefore, laughter.”

 

“It wasn’t your fault, Obi-Wan.  I should have noticed–”

 

“It’s my lightsaber, remember?” I reminded him, unwilling to let my Master feel guilty, even for a moment.  “I should have checked it before we even got to Corellia, and I didn’t.  Therefore, it’s my fault.”

 

Qui-Gon shook his head, refusing to concede the point.  “You were resting.  I’m the Jedi Master who should have noticed that the power cell was fluctuating.”

 

“Fine,” I said, trying to fight the grin that wanted to blossom on my face.  “It’s both our faults, and we should be mercilessly flogged for our lack of awareness.”

 

Qui-Gon snorted.  “You’ve already _been_ flogged.  This is one lesson, my Padawan, that we have both learned the hard way.”

 

The unformed grin melted away.  “We’ve just started our investigation, Master.  What am I going to do in the meantime?  It’s not like we can just hop back to the Temple for me to build a new lightsaber.”

 

Qui-Gon spread an antibacterial salve on my hand before wrapping it in lengths of wide, clean bandage.  I flexed my hand – there was unhappy protest from the lacerations, but I could still use it, if I had to.  I had a feeling that Qui-Gon was going to insist that I didn’t for the next few days.  Then my Master surprised me by reaching down to unclip his lightsaber from his belt, and placed it in my uninjured left hand.

 

I stared at it.  “You have got to be kidding.”

 

“It’s not going to bite you, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said, his eyes glinting with humor.  “If today was any indication, you will need to be able to defend yourself.  I’m a Jedi Master, Obi-Wan,” he continued, when I gave him a worried look.  “I have other means of defense at my disposal, and I would rather you carry it for now.”

 

“Carry it?” I shook my head, gingerly wrapping my fingers around the hilt.  “I’m not even sure if I can use it.”  The hilt was larger than I was used to, but not as much as I’d originally thought.  It occurred to me then that, if my lightsaber had not destroyed itself, it would soon have been time to build a new one.  My hands were rapidly outgrowing the casing.

 

“You won’t know until you try,” Qui-Gon said.  My Master stood and stepped back, so he would be out of reach of the blade when it was lit.

 

I stood up as well, turning the hilt in my hand before letting my finger rest on the activation switch.  The balance was very different, and would take some getting used to.

 

Then I ignited the blade.  My eyes widened, and I knew my mouth was hanging open in shock.  It felt, very literally, like the top of my head had just come off.  I squeaked and turned off the lightsaber, holding it as far away from myself as I could get it without dropping it.  “Your lightsaber just tried to eat me!”

 

I glared at Qui-Gon accusingly, who looked very much like he was trying not to laugh.  “It’s a multi-crystal blade, Obi-Wan.  If you’ve never used one before, the initial experience can be a bit… overwhelming.  Try it again?” he asked, and there was a gleam of challenge in his eyes.

 

I gritted my teeth and activated my Master’s lightsaber once more.  This time I was ready, though it still felt like my bones were vibrating.  I swung it experimentally, feeling a power behind the blade that was nonexistent in my own.  “And you really think I can use this thing?”

 

“I know that you can,” Qui-Gon said with such quiet confidence that I was startled.  “It’ll be hard to work with only one hand at first, but you’ll do fine.”

 

I shook my head, awed.  “I’m not ready for this kind of power.  When this mess with the Trade Federation is over, I’m going to happily hand it back to you and stay far away from multi-crystal blades for a long, long time.”

 

Qui-Gon tilted his head, regarding me so intently that I had to ruthlessly stomp on the desire to squirm under that penetrating gaze.  “You are a wise man, my Padawan,” he said, surprising me yet again.  “It takes a great deal of maturity to know when you are not ready for something.”  He stepped forward when I shut down the lightsaber, though he would not accept it back from me.  “I said that you would keep it for this mission, and I meant it,” Qui-Gon said, placing his hand over mine when I held it out to him.  “Though I look forward to the day when you believe in your talents the way I do,” he said, looking down at me with warm affection.

 

The temperature in the room climbed several notches, and it had nothing to do with the room’s tiny heating unit.  I flushed, ducking my head.  “Thank you, Master.”

 

 

                                    ****    ****    ****    ****

 

 

After Corellia had been Mindan, and after Mindan had been Alderaan, with no time for trips back to the Temple.  The Council had been quite unconcerned about my lack of lightsaber, mentioning that our next two missions were of the more conventional, ceremonial variety.  No wars or intrigues of any kind.  Just stand there and look important.  My Master was much better at looking important than I was.  I knew, from the heated looks I generated during these sorts of affairs, that I tended to look more like ornamentation. 

 

Completely routine – except for that part where the Viceroy’s son, Bail Organa, had been kidnapped, and Qui-Gon and I wound up slogging through a lot of mud and a lot of pirates to rescue him.  I had to take on the use of my Master’s lightsaber yet again, but as promised, I handed it right back to him on the transport home.  I really disliked the feel of my teeth vibrating in time with the lightsaber’s focusing crystals.

 

The entire mess had been worth meeting Bail, though.  I had a feeling that we could become very good friends, if ever given the opportunity.

 

Now I was following Qui-Gon through busy corridors, surrounded by the familiar quiet hum of many Jedi.  We’d been back in the Temple just long enough to sleep in our own beds, and my first priority –and my Master’s- upon waking was getting me the materials to build a new lightsaber.

 

When Qui-Gon led me into a part of the Temple I was unfamiliar with, I almost stopped walking in confusion.  Since he didn’t bother to slow down, I wound up hurrying my steps to catch up.  There was a sense of… of…

 

I frowned; it sounded like the Force was twinkling, except that twinkling usually didn’t make noise.  “What is that, Master?”

 

Qui-Gon stopped in front of a sealed door, and gave me a smile.  “You’ll find out, Padawan.”

 

Cryptic.  Very bad sign, that.  Qui-Gon opened the door, and I followed him inside.  The twinkling was definitely louder.  It almost sounded like…

 

I stopped moving, stopped thinking, and almost forgot to keep breathing.  Lightsaber crystals.  The entire room was filled with lightsaber crystals.  I could see some, placed in cabinets with clear doors, and there were samples here and there on workbenches and tables.  Always before, Qui-Gon or Master Callero had brought me the materials needed to make my lightsabers.  This time, it seemed my Master had decided to bring me to the source.

 

The room breathed with currents in the Force.  It was one of the most beautiful sensations I have ever been subjected to.

 

The crystals seemed to respond to my delight, and the twinkling, chiming sounds coalesced into different thrums and musical notes as each crystal vied for my attention.

 

Someone coughed politely.  “Padawan?”

 

I looked up at my Master, embarrassed; I had been so distracted by the sounds in the Force that I had heard nothing Qui-Gon said.  “Yes, Master?”

 

There was another Jedi Master standing with Qui-Gon.  He was an Arconan, with clear emerald eyes and a very interested expression on his face.  “Hmm.  You’re right,” the Arconan Master said to Qui-Gon.  “He’s definitely ready.”

 

“Close your mouth, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said, his eyes dancing with humor.  I realized my jaw had dropped some time ago, and snapped it closed.  “Obi-Wan Kenobi, this is Master Kimal Daarc, who had the dubious honor of being my first Padawan.”  There was no mistaking the pride in Qui-Gon’s voice.

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I managed to say, my voice strangled.  “I’m sorry,” I said, coughing to clear my throat.  “I was just startled. My Master said nothing of who we were coming to see.”  Or why, I added to myself, still bewildered by the massive crystal presence.

 

“That’s quite all right, Padawan Kenobi,” Master Daarc said, giving me a pleased smile.  I liked him immediately, which was confusing.  I tended not to like anyone at first greeting.  “The reputation of our Master’s second Padawan sort of shadows my existence.  I find that I don’t mind, because it means I can work in relative peace.”

 

Qui-Gon smiled, placing a warm hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder.  “I thought that since you were finally back in Temple, Kimal, that you and Obi-Wan should meet.  That, and it’s been far too long since we have last spoken.  Did you forget about me so quickly?”

 

Master Daarc laughed.  “Sure, as easily as I would forget Master Yoda.”  With that the other Jedi Master stepped forward, and I watched with a raised eyebrow as they embraced.  _Must not be jealous of platonic hug._   Force, if something as simple as that bothered me, I was going to wind up spending a lot of time on my knees in meditation, purging some very inappropriate feelings.

 

“So, aside from scolding me for not communicating with my Master,” Kimal said, “what brings you down to my lab?”

 

“Your lab?” Qui-Gon asked, a delighted grin appearing on his face as he crossed his arms.  “What, did you fire everyone else?”

 

“Yes, that’s exactly it,” Kimal drawled, grinning as well.  “I waited until I attained my Mastery, and then fired every one of the clumsy bastards that Master Callero had working for him.  I love that man dearly, but I’m glad he finally chose to retire.  His touch with the crystals is not as deft as it once was.  Now my crystals are under my supervision, and I can keep track of supplies.  Stop avoiding my question, Master.”

 

Qui-Gon looked down at me, a teasing glint in his eye.  “My Padawan’s lightsaber has become… irrevocably lost.  He needs to build a new one.  I thought it long-past time that he should choose his own lightsaber crystal.”

 

This time I really did forget to breathe.  “You mean it?” I whispered.

 

Qui-Gon nodded, chuckling at the floored expression on my face.  “Yes.  However, I’m sure that we can find one of the regular substitutes if—”

 

“No, no,” I said quickly.  “It’s just… I didn’t expect…” I stuttered to a halt.  “Thank you,” I breathed, when I could think of nothing more appropriate to say.  It was one of those rights of passage that I had always wished for, but never dared ask about.  Choosing your own crystal meant that you were considered more in tune with the Force, more able to understand its ebb and flow.  Considering the arguments my Master and I had about the Unifying Force over the Living Force, I had privately thought this day unlikely to ever arrive.

 

Qui-Gon wrapped an arm around my shoulders, hugging me close.  My heart fluttered in my chest at the contact – Qui-Gon did not touch me nearly as often as I might wish, in love with the man or not.  “I told you what I thought of your skill, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said in a low voice.  “I wouldn’t hand you a multi-crystal blade to use if I thought you incapable of something like this.”

 

I nodded, accepting the truth of what my Master had tried to tell me on Corellia at last.  “All right.  Where do I start?”

 

Kimal grinned.  “That’s my purview.  I help harvest most of the lightsaber crystals that we have in the Temple, and help tend the artificial ones as they’re grown.  I have an affinity for them that used to drive our Master insane.”

 

“Then will you help me, Master Daarc?” I asked formally, looking up at the Arconan Master with hopeful eyes.

 

“Only if you stop calling me Master Daarc, Padawan Kenobi.  We’ve both apprenticed to the same man. I am Kimal,” he said, holding out his hand.

 

I took it, feeling cool, soft skin and restrained Force essence that reminded me of Qui-Gon.  “Then I am Obi-Wan.”

 

“Good.  Now that that’s settled…” Kimal scrutinized me with the same sort of intensity that Master Yoda sometimes did.  “Oh, yes.  You are going to be interesting, Obi-Wan.  Let me see…”  Muttering under his breath, Kimal walked over to one of the lab’s cabinets, opened the doors, and took a covered tray from the bottom shelf.  “Yes, these may do.  If they don’t, I may have to fire myself, instead.”

 

I walked over when Kimal gestured for me to join him at the closest table, and the Master removed the cover from the tray.  Inside were carefully packaged crystals, each in their own individual pocket.  “Take a look at these.  They’re called Virrax, and are found in caves on one planet in the Corellian system.”

 

I tilted my head, surprised by what I saw.  The tray was filled with what looked like dull, dark blue stones.  In the Force, though… “They’re singing,” I said, and blushed when Kimal laughed.

 

“No, don’t look like that,” Kimal said, picking up one of the crystals and handing it to me.  I let it rest in my palm, in the center of the densest set of new scars, afraid I was going to drop it.  The crystal’s song hit a high, clear note that seemed endless.  The intensity was almost unbearable, and I handed it back to Kimal with a wince.  I’d never felt anything like it in my life, even when I’d done repair work on my other lightsabers. 

 

I tried not to twitch when Kimal touched me with the Force, his essence crawling over my aura.  It felt like the antennae of thousands of insects had just inspected me.  “You tickle,” I said without thinking.

 

Kimal didn’t seem to hear me, though I heard Qui-Gon choke back a laugh.  “Hmm.  The Virrax do indeed suit you, but not that one,” Kimal said, frowning.  “You choose one.”

 

I bent my head over the case, chewing on my lower lip as I looked at them all.  None of them looked that different from the other, though there were occasional changes in hue.  I looked at them with the Force, and one specific crystal called out to me.  I touched it, feeling an answering chime of rightness when I did so.  It was the smallest crystal in the tray, but to me, it was the most powerful.  I picked it up—

 

—and gripped it so tightly that the edges cut into my palm, but I didn’t notice.  My eyes had been filled by shifting red and black, cloth and laser, and piercing eyes.

 

I gasped when Qui-Gon’s hand gripped my shoulder hard enough to bruise as he gave me a quick shake.  “Padawan!”

 

My vision cleared, and I bit back one of the fouler Huttese curses I knew as I shuddered in remembered horror.  “What the hell was that!?”

 

“You Saw,” Kimal replied, his expression concerned.  “I take it that was your first such experience?”

 

“Yes,” I said, and winced as my hand let me know that I’d hurt it.  I opened my clenched fist, and the lines in my palm filled with blood as new cuts bled freely.  “Ow.”

 

Qui-Gon leaned forward, peering at the wound.  His eyes narrowed, and I felt the soothing balm of Force energy that was my Master’s healing talent.  “I thought that this gift would probably find you sooner or later,” he said, looking at me with calm blue eyes and a reassuring smile.  “What did you see?”

 

I put the crystal in my other hand, relaxing a bit when nothing else happened.  That was certainly enough drama for one day.  “I don’t know,” I said, trying to concentrate on the whirling nonsense that had filled my mind’s eye.  “Red.  Black.  Lots of movement.  There wasn’t anything recognizable.”  I bit my lip again, because there had been something else.  The memory danced away from me as I reached for it, elusive, and I sighed.  “I don’t remember anything else.  What does it mean?”

 

It was Kimal who shrugged.  “Nothing.  Everything.  You are not the first to have a vision when touching a crystal, for they are focusing tools.  As to that particular crystal?  It could mean that an element of future events is tied to it.  Or it could have been that the Force was waiting for just the right moment to dump that vision on your head.”

 

“Oh.”  I looked at the crystal that now resided in my left hand.  There was blood on its surface— my blood.  I shivered.  “I … can I look at others?  I don’t really feel comfortable with this thing right now.”

 

Kimal and Qui-Gon exchanged glances, and I felt the hum of mental conversation.  I didn’t mind; I didn’t care what their opinion of me was at that moment, as long as I managed to find a crystal that didn’t feel so… preemptive.

 

“You may,” Qui-Gon nodded his agreement.  “But Kimal feels that you may be unsuccessful.  Frankly, so do I.”

 

“I’m going to give it a shot anyway,” I replied. 

 

I wandered the confines of the lab for an hour, and Qui-Gon and Kimal left me alone, speaking to one another in muted tones while I poked and prodded at every crystal I was allowed to get near.  Nothing.

 

I glared at the Virrax crystal, still sitting on the table, and had a very un-Jedi-like urge to curse at the rock.  Not that the rock would care.

 

“I told you so,” Kimal said without looking up, and I saw the grin that the Jedi Master was trying to hide.

 

I sighed.  “I know.  It was worth a shot.”  I walked over and touched the small Virrax again, wary, and wondered at the sense of finality that I felt.

 

 

                        ****    ****    ****    ****

 

 

The attack on the Temple had been unexpected, though it didn’t take a genius to realize it had been timed to coincide with the distraction of the armed rebellion wreaking havoc in the Expansion Region .  Half of the Council –Mace Windu, Micah Giett, Saesee Tiin, Eeth Koth, and Evan Piell- in addition to me, my Master, and Garen, flying support, had tasked ourselves with bringing the warlike Yinchorri to justice. 

 

The loss of four Jedi Knights, who had died defending the Temple when another band of Yinchorri attacked during the night, had been bad enough.

 

Micah Giett being fatally wounded by a lucky blaster shot was almost unbelievable. 

 

I had stood with the other Jedi in the Memorial Gardens as four pyres had been lit.  The fifth had been unnecessary– Micah had corrupted his lightsaber as his last act, and the resulting explosion had vaporized his body along with the Yinchorri surrounding him, who were taunting him as he had breathed his last.  The horror of that moment would forever be burned into my memory.

 

I hoped that Master Giett had enjoyed being able to have the last laugh over the murderous bastards.

 

Now it was late, and Garen and I were all that remained of the earlier crowd.  We were watching the pyres, and the flames were now low and sullen over beds of glowing embers.

 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Garen said, his eyes red-rimmed.  He was staring blankly into the coals of the nearest pyre.

 

I was sitting next to him, my hand wrapped in Garen’s, offering what comfort I could.  I honestly had no idea what I would do in my best friend’s place.  Master Micah Giett’s death had left the Order bereft of one of the Council’s strongest presences, and Garen Muln without a Master.

 

The Council I didn’t have to give a damn about, but Garen…  “You’re going to be a pilot,” I said softly.  “Your Master said himself that in that regard, he had little left to teach you.”

 

Garen looked back at me with hollow eyes.  “Did he?  Hells, Obi-Wan– I don’t know what to do without him.  I didn’t even think I was even going to be a Padawan until he-” his voice broke, and Garen swiped at his eyes with his hands.  “He snagged someone who was bound for the Corps.  He told Master Windu to sod off when Windu said I was a lost cause.  I just wanted him to be able to see it when I proved him right.  Now… now I don’t even know if they’re going to let me stay.”

 

Master Windu surprised us both, then, when the Jedi Master sat down on the ground beside us.  “You’re going to be a pilot, as Obi-Wan said, and as your Master wished.  The Council is not so blind as to not see now the potential that Master Giett envisioned.”  Master Windu’s expression was gentle as he laid a hand on Garen’s shoulder.  “Garen… Micah once asked me, that if anything happened to him, I would make sure your training was completed.  If there is no objection on your part,” he added.

 

Garen stared at the other Master, bewildered.  I was almost certain I knew exactly how he felt.  “I… I’ll have to think about that.  Is it okay if I just…” Garen’s throat convulsed as he swallowed.  “I just need time.”

 

Mace smiled, and it was one of the few times we had ever seen the Master not in the role of Councilor or taskmaster.  “Take what time you need.  You will be a Jedi, Garen, though you need not consider me your Master.  Micah…” he hesitated.  “Your Master had already told me that in regards to your chosen career, he had little left to teach you.  What remained was the refinement of your skills in other areas, especially the lightsaber.  There is little else left but formality and the matter of some of your licenses.  You will probably be Knighted within the year.” 

 

I squeezed Garen’s hand.  This was a bright spot amidst the gloom of the past few days.  I felt fierce pride at what Garen had managed to accomplish, when once we had both been treated as failed Initiates.  “See?  I told you that you’d be the first of us.”

 

Garen shook his head, a hint of a smile on his face.  “The only reason you’re not already a Knight is because you’re in a class by yourself, Obi-Wan.  I’ve been shot at… what, maybe twice?  Someone is trying to kill you on a daily basis.  You need to watch your ass, because I have no intention on attending any more funerals this year.”  He stared hard at the pyres before looking at me.  “This is more than enough.”

 

I looked into my friend’s eyes, and without thinking, said, “You will never have to attend my pyre.”

 

Garen’s eyes went wide, his mouth hanging open in abject horror, and too late I realized what had happened.  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, jumping up and leaving the Memorial Garden as fast as I possibly could without running, guilt stabbing me with gleeful claws as I fled.

 

I stopped in the hallway that led back into the Temple, my own tears threatening to fall, but I held them back.  _Stupid, stupid prescience,_ I thought, my lips curling in anger.  It had kicked in with a vengeance in the last year, and I found myself saying the oddest things, or flashing on images that made little sense, at completely random and inconvenient times.  It was getting so bad that I was considering going to Yoda.  My Master had tried to help me, but I had already outstripped Qui-Gon Jinn’s talent in Foresight.  It was enough to drive me crazy; we were in the Temple so rarely that I had no one else to talk to about the things I Saw.

 

I looked up, but did not bother to turn around, when I sensed that Mace Windu was now behind me.  “Master Windu.”

 

I heard the Master sigh.  “Obi-Wan, it was not your fault.  You had no idea—”

 

“That I was going to hurt a friend?” I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice and failed.  “I know that, Master Windu.  I just wish that the Force had better timing.”

 

Master Windu stepped up beside me, and the distant pyres’ embers were reflected by his dark eyes.  “It isn’t a bad gift to have, Obi-Wan.  It has its uses.”

 

I nodded, though I was unconvinced.  “Then tell me what I’m supposed to do when it is not one death I see, but the death of every Jedi?”  That was the vision that plagued me the most, but it was so unspecific in matters of time, place, or method that it was nigh useless.  I was getting tired of waking in a cold sweat from those dreams.  In the moment before I awoke, I could still hear screaming.

 

“At that point?” Mace grinned tightly.  “Tell the Force to bugger off.”

 

I raised an eyebrow at the other man, not as scandalized as I would have been two years ago to hear Mace Windu, epitome of the glacial Jedi Master, speak so.  “I didn’t realize that was an option, Master Windu.”

 

“There is always another option, Padawan Kenobi,” Mace said, turning serious once more.  “Never forget that.  Now, go see to your Master.  I’ll make sure that Garen has company for the rest of the night.”

 

I hesitated.  “My Master would probably prefer to be alone.”

 

Mace snorted.  “He might have said that, but I doubt it’s what Qui-Gon Jinn would prefer.  He needs you more than he’s willing to admit, Obi-Wan.”

 

I turned just enough to see into the Garden; Garen was sitting where I had left him, staring at the four pyres with a lost expression.  “Thank you, Master Windu,” I said at last.  “I will do so.”

 

 

 

I stopped breathing at the sight.  My heart expanded painfully in my chest; never before had I seen my Master look so… primal.  For once, Qui-Gon had let his essence as a Jedi pour itself free, unrestrained.  The light around him was palpable and sweet.

 

The love I felt for my Master, that I had nursed through two years of adversity and loss, sang in my heart at that moment.  It beat at my breast, wishing to be free, and I mourned as I held it back.  The time was not yet right, and sometimes I despaired that it ever would be.

_I love you, Qui-Gon Jinn,_ I thought, hiding the proclamation beneath mental shields nearly as impervious as the Jedi Master’s.  _If I could have done anything to stop Micah Giett’s death, I would have, just so you would not have to feel this pain._

 

“We missed you at the funeral,” I said to announce my presence, though I would have loved to drink in the sight of my Master for as long as I was able.

 

Qui-Gon nodded, and I realized that he was holding a dark green bottle in his lap, his fingers tearing idly at the label.  “Is Garen all right?”

 

“He will be, eventually,” I replied, torn between wanting to leave my Master in peace and obeying the suggestion that Master Windu had given me.  “Do you… do you mind if I join you?”

 

At that, Qui-Gon’s head turned towards me, and our eyes met.  I sucked in a startled breath at the intense loneliness in my Master’s eyes.  Though often I could read his mood in those warm blue depths, never had I been offered such an intimate disclosure.  “I don’t mind,” Qui-Gon said, motioning to a place on the railing next to him.

 

I shucked my boots and tossed them aside, climbing over the balcony rail.  I sat as close to Qui-Gon as I dared, which meant that there was still nearly an arm’s length of space between us.  “Are you all right?” I asked, feeling foolish, but I couldn’t think of anything less obvious to say.

 

“I’m feeling old, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said.  His hair twisted in the breeze.  Even I had to admit that it was far more silver than brown, now, but I bristled anyway.

 

“You are _not_ old,” I said fiercely.

 

Qui-Gon shrugged in response, the lights of the buildings around them making his face seem drawn.  “You may not think so, but I know better.  I have watched almost all of the friends of my childhood pass on before me. Only Tahl remains.  When you are the only one left…” he trailed off, passing the green bottle to me.  “Try it.  If you like it, I’ll disown you.”

 

“With a statement like that, I have no real desire to drink it at all,” I retorted, though I took the bottle.  I sniffed and made a face; the scent of alcohol was so strong that I thought my sinuses were going to light on fire.  Then I took a sip, and my sinuses did burn, as well as my tongue and throat.  “Faugh– you’re willingly drinking this?  Are you trying to poison yourself?”

 

Qui-Gon gave me a faint nod.  “Not so willingly.  But Micah and I made a promise once.  We both despised the thought of attending the other’s funeral, and so we decided that we would not.  Instead, we rather foolishly agreed to imbibe a bottle of whatever favorite liquor the other preferred, and let everyone else bother with the pyre.  Micah’s tastes… leave something to be desired, but I will do what I promised to do.”  He almost seemed to smile.  “Besides, if I had gone first, he would have been subjected to Alderaanian wine, and wine made him retch.”

 

“I think _I’m_ going to retch,” I muttered, still trying to cough out the last of the foul liquid.

 

Qui-Gon took back the bottle, our fingers brushed, and my body vibrated at the contact.  We had just narrowly avoided our own deaths, and I wanted so badly to just _live._   If it weren’t for my own sense of duty… I stifled a sigh _.  Stupid no attachments for Padawans Code_ , I thought.  It was an oft-repeated mantra.  “I knew you had been friends for a long time, but I had no idea it went back that far.”

 

Qui-Gon’s eyes went distant.  “I can tell you how I first met him, if you like.”  I nodded, and my Master continued to speak.  “I was sitting in the commissary after getting back from my first mission.  I’ve told you how well that went,” Qui-Gon said, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.  I smiled; it made my own first mission seem almost bland in comparison.  “I was feeling rather sorry for myself, and I was sitting there with my head in my hands, ignoring my food.  This other Padawan walks up– I guessed he was my age, though I wasn’t sure.  You know that tail knot that Micah always sported?  He had that same cut when he was a boy, but he grew out a Padawan braid to hang down next to his ear. 

 

“This boy, who I think I’d said two words to my entire time as an Initiate, gave me a very happy smile.  ‘So!’ he says.  ‘Just get back from your first mission, huh?’

 

‘Yes,’ I said, wishing very much that he would go away.

 

‘I could tell.  I did the same thing in here yesterday when we got back.  So what horrible thing did you do?’ he asked, as if oblivious to my distress.

 

‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ I said firmly.

 

Micah Giett—I had remembered his name by now—just kept grinning.  ‘I got myself sold into slavery.  How ‘bout you?”

 

I clapped a hand over my mouth to keep a laugh from spilling out.  Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow, taking a sip from the bottle.

 

“I looked up at him, wary.  ‘You did not.’

 

‘Oh, I did.  Go ask my Master–’ he pointed to a Rodian Jedi Master who was talking with Master Yoda.  I later learned that she was Master Orna kel Ta, a contemporary of Master Dooku’s.  Not,” Qui-Gon added, almost an afterthought, “one of his friends.”

 

“My Master’s telling everybody,’ Micah said.  ‘It’s hard to be miserable about it when she thinks it’s so blasted funny.’  He looked back at me.  ‘So, spill.’

 

‘Sold into slavery,’ I mumble.  I think I was still waiting for him to tease me mercilessly about it, or be disdainful, as my Master had been.

 

‘You did not,’ Micah repeated my words, disbelieving.  ‘You can’t possibly tell me that we screwed up in the exact same way.’

 

‘I think we did,’ I said, finally realizing that this exuberant boy was completely well-intentioned.  ‘How did your Master get you back?’

 

Micah shrugged.  ‘She had to come in with her lightsaber blazing, because the slavers I stumbled into didn’t want to sell me back.’

 

‘My master had to purchase me,’ I said.  ‘I think I’m glad I had my slavers and you had yours.  I don’t think Master Dooku would have bothered, otherwise.”

 

I nodded, unnoticed, in the dark.  I had seen early on that Dooku was more attached to money, and to using it, than any other Jedi in the Order.  It bothered me in a way that I couldn’t explain.

 

“Tahl came to sit with us, and she wore her Padawan braid exactly the same as you do– her hair spiked and short, with her braid hanging down to her chin.  She’d told me a few weeks before that she’d gotten quite sick of the other female Padawans complaining about their braid being hidden by their long hair, and had decided to act as an example.”  Qui-Gon smiled.  “It didn’t work out quite the way that she’d hoped.”

 

“So,’ Tahl said, setting down her tray and sitting at the table opposite Micah and I.  ‘How badly did the two of you screw up?  I punched an ambassador in the face when he pinched my ass, and nearly started a war.”’

 

This time the laugh slipped free, and Qui-Gon smiled.

 

“Micah and I looked at each other, and then looked back at her.  ‘You win,’ we said together.  Tahl stared at us, and then all three of us laughed ourselves sick.”

 

I looked at my Master in the dark, and Qui-Gon’s eyes were alight with memory.  “That sounds wonderful, Master.”  I had never had the same opportunity to meet with my friends after we had all been taken as Padawans.  The first year Qui-Gon and I were together, we didn’t return to the Temple for the first six months.  Even then, there had been other things going on- like a very disturbed Bruck Chun trying to kill my best friend.

 

Qui-Gon nodded.  “We didn’t find ourselves together like that very often.  The next time I can clearly remember the three of us sitting in the commissary together, it was the first time since we’d earned our Knighthoods.  We were comparing notes on our Trials, excited and looking forward to what the next year would bring.”  He took another sip of that foul alcohol.  “I actually met Xanatos on that day, as well.”

 

“Oh?” I said, trying not to pry.  Qui-Gon never spoke of his second Padawan unless he had no choice.  To hear something about Xanatos that wasn’t related to darkness would be a new experience.

 

“One of the Initiate Clans was making their way through the commissary.  An imp with shining black hair and white skin separated himself from the group, skipped over, and stared up at me.”  Qui-Gon swallowed audibly.  “You’re pretty,’ he said, and wrapped himself around my leg.  It took both creche Masters to pry him off, and even then he wouldn’t leave until I promised to see him again.”

 

“Did you?” I asked.  It was a hard thing to reconcile the vision of an impish three year old child with the dark creature that Xanatos had been at his death.

 

Qui-Gon glanced at me again, with a rueful smile on his face.  “Of course I did.  I was afraid I was going to wake up to an imp crawling into my bed, otherwise.  I went, and then I kept going, because I found I enjoyed spending my time with the children of his Clan.  There were eighteen three year-old children, thrilled beyond belief, because a brand-new Knight was playing with them.”  He shook his head before raising the bottle.  Half of the amber liquid in it disappeared, and I shuddered, imagining so much of that vile liquor in my throat would burn far worse than a mere sip.  “Frustrated my Master to no end, believe me, but he was no longer in any position to stop it.”

 

“Why don’t you go there any more?  To the creche, I mean,” I said, clarifying when Qui-Gon looked at me in confusion.

 

Qui-Gon considered my question for a long time.  “I don’t know.  Should I?”

 

“If it once made you happy to spend time with the little ones… then yes, I think you should,” I dared to say.  I was eighteen years old, and had spent five years at Qui-Gon Jinn’s side, but I still had trouble speaking of things that my Master might find intrusive.

 

Qui-Gon set the bottle aside, raising one arm invitingly.  “Come here, Padawan,” he said, his voice rough, and I scooted over, breathing a relieved sigh when my Master’s arm settled over my shoulders.

 

We sat that way together for the rest of the night, watching the lights of Coruscant in lieu of the stars.

 

 

                                    ****    ****    ****    ****

 

 

Ossus, Korah Delta, Ithor, Cambrillia, Chandrila, X’vet.  I stared at my data reader, the list of planets outlined in stark relief.  I was still trying to come to grips with the fact that six missions had happened since Master Giett’s death, and a year had flown by almost without notice.  Qui-Gon and I had been so damned busy that there was no time to think of anything but being shot at, negotiating an end to a land dispute, trading guild quibbles, and confirming X’vet’s new place in the Republic.  I shook my head.  At least I hadn’t lost any more lightsabers.

 

Then we had spent a month back at the Temple, and my Master’s friendship with Jedi Master Tahl had taken a decidedly romantic turn.

 

I was lounging on the couch, trying to concentrate on Core World History and failing, when I heard the ‘fresher door open.  I watched as my Master walked out in a cloud of steam, his robe wrapped securely around him as headed for his room.  “Well, Master, you look far less scruffy now.”

 

Qui-Gon stopped walking and turned to face me, his wet hair dripping onto his robe in dark rivulets.  The beard that had grown rather unruly was trimmed back to its customary length, and Qui-Gon had cut the dead ends from his hair.  “I am never scruffy-looking,” he replied with dignity.

 

I hid a grin.  “Whatever you say, Master.  What time are you meeting Master Tahl for dinner?”

 

“Just about– Oh, Sith!” his Master cursed, ducking quickly into his room.  “Twenty minutes ago!”

 

I laughed.  Qui-Gon’s composure did not falter often.  “Your clothes are already on the bed, and I called and told her that you would be late.  She’s waiting for you on the Eighth Promenade’s landing site.”

 

“What would I do without you, Padawan?” Qui-Gon asked, his voice muffled as he pulled his tunic over his head.

 

“You would be late far more often, I dare say,” I said, smiling. I fiddled with the data reader in my lap, and wondered why I wasn’t jealous of my Master’s new relationship with Tahl.

 

The answer was appallingly simple; I just wanted Qui-Gon to be happy.  If I could not be the one to make him happy—difficult while still under a Padawan’s restrictions for Attachments—then I was glad that Tahl could. 

 

It helped that I also liked Tahl.  She was gentle, she was kind, she had a fantastic sense of humor– and she had readily forgiven me for being one of the main causes for her loss of sight.  We had become friends, even as Qui-Gon had become something more to her.  When my Master wasn’t there, I helped Tahl plot ways to ensnare Qui-Gon more thoroughly.  Tonight’s dinner had been one of the things that we had arranged together.

 

That, and I had helped her sabotage that very annoying droid.  Tahl had reported DJ’s malfunction to the quartermaster with barely contained glee, while being very adamant that a replacement just shouldn’t be granted her, under the circumstances.  Since then, I had been just as welcome in her quarters as my Master, though I very politely kidnapped Bant during those occasions, taking my friend down to the gardens, in case anything more active were to happen.  That, I did not want to see, because then I knew that I _would_ be jealous.

 

I returned the harried-looking wave my Master gave me as Qui-Gon darted out of our quarters, still tugging on his boots.  I smiled, a touch of sadness striking me.  It would be nice, one day, to be pursued in such a single-minded fashion.  I pulled out my commlink and punched in Bant’s code.  “Hey, you.  Come hang out at my place,” I said, lacing my voice with a teasing drawl.

 

“Obi?  Why would I– ohh.  Aw, hells.  You humans are always in season!” she yelled back, frustrated.  “I’m coming.  If our Masters get up to anything naughty, I don’t want to have to put a pillow over my head.”

 

“See?” I replied, my smile fading.  “I have your best interests at heart.  Come on over.  We can listen together as our new Knight, Garen Muln, bemoans the fact that Padawan Reeft hasn’t noticed his unrequited love.”  That, and I still needed to give Garen his Knighting gift– enough caff to stock his new quarters for at least six months.

 

“Heh.  If anyone should be bemoaning anything, it’s you.  I’ve seen the way you eyeball your Master when you think no one is looking.”

 

I winced.  I knew I wasn’t that transparent, but the Calamarian girl knew me better than almost anyone.  “Bant…”

 

She sighed.  “Yeah, yeah.  I’m coming over.  But you and I both know that if you don’t say anything, you’re liable to miss out.”

 

I shut down the commlink, not willing to reply to that.  Even if I could say anything, I wouldn’t– I had no intention of ever coming between my Master and the woman he had chosen to love.

 

 

                                    ****    ****    ****    ****

 

 

“So what do you say, Obi-Wan?”

 

I stared at Garen, honestly not sure what to do.  If he had approached me with a lecherous grin and a swagger to his hips, I could have laughed it off.  I could have teased him, sent him on his way, secure in the knowledge that the matter was settled.

 

Instead, my best friend had come to me and asked to speak with me privately, his eyes full of trepidation.  My Master had kindly given me leave to speak to Knight Muln, and we had escaped the public venues of the Temple together.  In a secluded corner of the gardens, Garen Muln had asked me to be his first lover.

 

I swallowed hard, my palms so clammy I was certain they had to be dripping sweat.  “Why are you asking me?” I managed, if only to stall for time.

 

Garen tilted his head, an expression of genuine puzzlement crossing his features.  “Because we’re friends.  And because– well,” he hesitated.  “I figured if anyone of our agemates would be experienced, it would be you.”

 

I tried to swallow my tongue.  “What?!”

 

Garen shushed me, glancing around to make sure my squeak of outrage had not been overheard.  Then he faced me, looking even more nervous than before.  “You mean… you haven’t?  But… I know that there’s interest.  And I know that Siri has put out an all points bulletin on the subject.  I mean– gods, look at you!  How can you not be drowning in sex?”

 

I shifted uncomfortably.  Garen was not the first person to tell me that I was, somehow, the walking embodiment of sex.  I’d been looking at my own face long enough to know that these people had to be hallucinating.  “Siri wants to eat me, not love me,” I pointed out, in lieu of saying anything else.  I sighed and rubbed my eyes with my hands.  “If you’re looking for a first time with an experienced partner, you’ve come to the wrong place,” I said, confident that it would be the end of the matter. 

 

“Oh.” 

 

We sat there in silence for a few minutes.  I stared at a tree, watching the artificial Temple breeze dance through the long, draping leaves of the quiet giant.  Garen gnawed on his thumb, obviously deep in thought.  “Hey… Obi?” he spoke at last.

 

I looked back at him, surprised to find a tremulous smile on his lips.  There was a hint of the old laughing Garen in his eyes.  “Would you spend the night with me anyway?”

 

“I…” Crap.  I was out of logical excuses.  Now I was going to have to be honest.  “Garen… I’m in love with someone else.”

 

To my consternation, he grinned.  “Oh, I know that.  So am I, Obi-Wan.  You’re pining after yon tall Master—”

 

“Garen!” I squawked again, slapping my own hand over my mouth to rein in anything more.  At this rate, the entire Temple would be telling Qui-Gon Jinn that his Padawan was in love with him before I ever got the chance.

 

He continued as if I hadn’t spoken.  “…And I’m in love with Reeft.  But I don’t want to go to him like a fumbling teenager.  Who’s ever heard of a Jedi Knight who’s never even had sex?”

 

“That’s only public opinion,” I muttered.  Tabloids that assumed Jedi Knights were sexual gods annoyed me to no end. 

 

Garen shrugged.  “I still want my first time with Reeft… to be my first time with him.  I don’t want it to be my first experience with sex, period.  Spoils all the fun.  And I imagine you probably don’t want yon tall Master to have to deal with a starry-eyed virgin, either.”

 

I glowered at him.  He had a point.  I didn’t want to be a trembling novice when I spoke of my feelings to Qui-Gon.  I wanted to be able to please him with my body as much as I wanted to please him with my companionship.  “Being a Jedi Knight has made you a total bastard,” I said to Garen at last.

 

He grinned, his eyes shining with delight.  “Come to my new place after the dinner bell rings tomorrow night.  We can eat together and gossip about Bant and her new boyfriend behind her back.”

 

I nodded my agreement, though I was certain that Qui-Gon and I would be assigned another mission before the day was out.  Either that, or Qui-Gon would have some random task for me. 

 

 

 

The Force hated me. 

 

No new mission was forthcoming, and when I asked my Master for permission to spend the night with Garen, he gave me a warm smile and said only to be in the training salle at our usual time in the morning.

 

I actually fidgeted in place before my Master as my brain gleefully informed me that I had just asked my Master for permission to fuck. 

 

I fled as soon as decorum allowed it, retreating into the shower.  I bathed slowly, carefully, trying to make sure that I cleaned myself within an inch of my life.  Then I leaned against the cool tiles of the shower, and tried to decide what, exactly, I was afraid of.

 

I liked Garen.  I loved him, as much as one could love their best friend.  I would never hurt him, and he would never hurt me.

 

I never really gave sex much thought.  Not because I wasn’t interested.  Far from that.  I was a teenaged human male.  Interest in sex was a given.  I had my share of fantasies, most of them of late centered around the blue-eyed man in the next room with the smile that made my stomach do interesting loops. 

 

The root of it was that I never had _time_ to think about sex.  My Master was in demand throughout most of the known galaxy, and where he went, I followed.  Most of our missions left us too exhausted to contemplate more than sleep.  Even in the Temple, I tended to work myself until I was exhausted, striving to improve my lightsaber technique, my piloting skills on the simulators, or even Republic history and diplomatic speeches.  Anything that would get me closer to being a Jedi Knight.  Anything that would bring me closer to Qui-Gon’s level, to be able to speak to him one day as an equal.

 

Dammit.  I found myself staring down at my cock, which was half-hard just from thinking about the time I spent with my Master.

 

 _I did need this_ , I thought.  With Garen I wouldn’t have to be nervous.  With Garen we could be bumbling fools together, and no one would know but us. 

 

I soaped up my hands again, stroking myself to a quick yet satisfying climax.

 

 

 

I don’t know what I expected, but Garen was true to his word.  We sat at the kitchen table in his apartment and ate, talking and laughing together in a way that we hadn’t been able to do in some time.  We were both busy enough that hanging out with our friends had become a rare and precious commodity.

 

Somewhere between discussing piloting around black holes and some new tricks Garen had learned with a gravity well, he was kissing me and I was kissing him in return.  My tongue slipped inside his mouth, and he groaned.  I grinned against his lips.  “You taste like beer and Nerf,” I said.

 

He snorted.  “You taste like that damned tea you like,” he said, and gripped the back of my neck with both of his hands and drowned my next words in gentle, explorative kisses.  I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation of being kissed, of feeling the warmth of Garen’s hands on my skin, and the warmth of his breath against my face.

 

 _Yes,_ I thought.  This was right.  This was perfect.  “Come on,” I said, pulling away long enough to stand and take his hand in mine.  “I’m not going to make out in your kitchen.  There are certain standards of cleanliness that ought to be observed.”

 

Garen grinned at my words.  “Got to be right and proper, don’t you, Kenobi?”

 

“Of course,” I said, sniffing in mock-offense.  “Now take me to your room and ravish me, you fool.”

 

He laughed and swept me up in his arms, and I reveled in being held and carried by someone so much larger than I was.  “I never pictured you as the damsel.”

 

“I’m not,” I replied, taking the opportunity to experiment with nibbling on his neck.  I’d read that it could be very interesting, and judging by the way Garen’s breath hitched, it had the desired affect. His skin was smoky and salty, and I was seized by the urge to taste as much as I could.  “Next time you can be the damsel, and I’ll sweep you off your feet instead.”

 

“You could try,” Garen said, and dumped me unceremoniously onto his bed.  I grinned, delighted, and reached out for him to join me.

 

 

 

                                    ****    ****    ****    ****

 

 

Sith!  Sith Sith Sith Sith Sith! I thought, barely able to keep up with my Master.  When Qui-Gon Jinn decided to go somewhere, he went.  I struggled to keep the Force’s flow constant, just to keep running, as the landscape blurred unevenly around me.  If I hadn’t learned how to use the Force to enhance my speed, I would have lost track of Qui-Gon long ago.  I vowed to myself that when this mess was over, I was going to master the damned skill, no matter what it took.

 

I leapt up onto the catwalk when Qui-Gon did– it was the same damned catwalk Tahl had shown us several days ago, which meant we were closer to the mines than I’d thought.  I took two more running steps, and my right leg crashed through the weakened grating. 

 

I cried out, unable to help it, when I felt and heard loud cracks as my momentum was unnaturally halted. 

 

Qui-Gon skidded to a halt, whirling at my cry.  “Obi-Wan?”

 

“Go!” I yelled, when my leg wouldn’t budge from the broken grate that pinned it.  Tears of pain formed in my eyes, and I blinked them away as I yanked again, knowing my leg was broken in at least two places.  The fractured metal punctured my skin, tearing into my leg as I tried to pull myself free.

 

Qui-Gon stared at me, obviously torn between helping me and finding Tahl.

 

I stared back, knowing that there was no other choice. “GO!” I screamed, my throat raw from the force of my cry.  _Go!_

 

Qui-Gon turned and ran without looking back.

 

My hand went to my lightsaber as I felt others approach, their dark intent a whisper in the Force.

 

New Apsolon had turned out to be far more horrible than even Qui-Gon’s Foresight had implied.  I ignited my lightsaber, turning around as much as I could.

 

A pair of the mercenaries had climbed the ladder to the catwalk.  The Absolutes.  I spared a moment to think that I had never heard a more ludicrous name for a band of mercenaries.  I grinned as they advanced on me, and my lightsaber bathed my face in cool blue light.  “Who’s first?”

 

One of the two men dove for me, and screamed in pain when my lightsaber scored a burn on his arm.  He stepped back, gripping the wound and yelling at his companion in the garbled trade language The Absolutes used.  The other mercenary raised his blaster rifle and opened fire.

 

I deflected the blasts with my lightsaber with ease, taking down both mercs with their own fire.  I disengaged my saber and yanked again, and through the haze of pain I felt my leg move.  I gritted my teeth and braced myself with the Force, and pulled.

 

I fell back as my leg broke free, screaming as white agony erupted, blinding me with its intensity.  I rolled on the catwalk, holding my leg and trying to pull myself together.  My eyes were burning with pain and shame.   _Sith-spawned, stupid, son of a…_   If only I had been paying more attention to where the hell I was going!

 

 _Focus, you idiot!_ Qui-Gon was going to need my help, that I was certain of, and I wasn’t going to do him any good just lying here like a crippled Tauntaun.

 

I got up, putting weight on the leg, and willed myself to ignore the torture of broken bone and torn skin.  Blood was staining the bottom half of my pant leg, disappearing into my boot, and I didn’t look, fearing that I would see more than just scrapes from the sharp metal.  I took a moment to pull my tabards from my body, wrapping them around my leg as tightly as I could.  It would have to do.

 

I pulled myself along with the railing, watching for more rusted spots that meant the catwalk could give way again.  I contented myself with a running litany:  _This is exactly why you don’t go anywhere without your Padawan.  Never, ever,_ ever _go anywhere without your Padawan!_   If Tahl had brought Bant with her, none of this would be happening!

 

That wasn’t exactly true– Bant could have been captured along with Tahl, and we might well be rescuing two instead of one.  Somehow, though, I didn’t think so.

 

I growled, skipping a part of the catwalk railing that looked rusted enough to disintegrate under my touch.  The growl became a whimper as I had to put my full weight back on my leg. _Oh, Healer Terza is going to hand me my head_ , I thought.  I can hear it now: _You walked on a leg that you knew was broken?  What the hell is the matter with you?_

 

Under other circumstances, I might have been tempted to laugh.

 

 There was a freight elevator at the end of the catwalk.  I punched the button for the lowest floor, sensing it was the way that my Master had gone.  I banged my fist against the call plate as the car began to climb the shaft, too slowly, with a low rumble.  “Come on, come on,” I muttered, my hand clenched around my lightsaber hilt tightly enough for my knuckles to whiten.  “Hurry the hell up!” I cried.  Something was wrong, very wrong.  I could feel it as a stillness in the Force, as if the entire universe were holding its breath.  Bad.  Very bad.

 

When the elevator car showed no intention of rising any faster, I slammed my hand down on the stop button, yanked open the door, and jumped down the shaft.

 

I used the Force to slow my fall, landing on the top of the elevator car with a gentle thump that still jarred my leg.  Biting back a gasp of pain, I opened the access door for the car and lowered myself down, activating the elevator again as I did so.  It began to descend, just as slowly as it had ascended, and I wanted to scream with impatience.

 

The car stopped, the doors opened with a shuddering whine, and I stepped out into a dimly lit tunnel.  My boot knocked against something, and I stared down into dead eyes that were wide with surprise.  I gulped, spying the lightsaber wound that had almost bisected the mercenary.

 

He wasn’t the only one.  I could see more bodies, everywhere I looked, and I leaned against the wall as the world swam dizzily.

 

I was standing in a tunnel full of dead men.

 

“Oh… oh, oh, oh.”  It seemed to be the only thing I was capable of saying.  But then, what was there to say?  I knew well enough how this had happened.  I just didn’t want to believe it.  _Master?_

 

There was no response, but I could still track him through the training bond we shared.  I followed it down the tunnel, unable to help it when I stepped on splayed fingers, wincing every time my mutilated leg brushed against a body.

 

I made it halfway through the tunnel, sensing that whatever life had been down here, Qui-Gon had very efficiently done away with. 

 

Then I stopped walking and stood there, my heart constricting, because we had not been fast enough.

 

Qui-Gon was walking towards me, his head bowed, with Tahl’s body cradled in his arms.

 

 

                                    ****    ****    ****    ****

 

 

I sat on the floor, cradled by the lights that represented every known star in the galaxy.  I was focusing on my breathing, ignoring the fact that tears were running down my face.  I couldn’t quite meditate with the pain in my leg, but this was almost as soothing.  The Star Map room was a resource open to most of the Temple, but other Jedi usually respected my desire to sit within the hologram, and left me alone.

 

I heard the door open with a soft hiss of hydraulics, and the tapping that accompanied my visitor’s footsteps were as characteristic as his Force-sense.  “Been looking for you, I have,” Master Yoda said, his voice soft.  “Hiding, you are.  I am wondering: why are you here?”

 

I wished that Yoda hadn’t come.  I’d limped my way down to this part of the Temple out of a desire to be alone.  However, one did not tell Master Yoda that you weren’t in the mood for his company.  “I didn’t know where else to go,” I whispered.

 

Yoda stepped closer, walking through the stars that made up the Corellian system and part of the Perlemian Trade Route.  “To your quarters, you should have gone,” he suggested, and I shrugged, despite my faint smile.  It was a valid point.  “A very terse report, Master Qui-Gon gave the Council.  Say no more, he will not.  Grieving he is, as all Jedi are.  To lose a friend in such a brutal way– a horrible thing this is.”  I sucked in a breath, feeling fresh tears form in my eyes and fall.  “Like it, I would, if tell me what happened you did.”

 

I didn’t want to talk about it.  I never wanted to talk about it, but Yoda was probably the only being in the Temple that I _could_ talk to.  Garen would have understood, but Garen was off-planet, in the middle of his second mission as a Knight.  I understood it had something to do with flying escort duty for a shipping company being harassed by marauders.  Bant… I bit my lip fiercely enough to draw blood.  I couldn’t talk to Bant, not if I was as responsible for her Master’s death as… as I had been informed.

 

“Sense much pain in you, I do,” Yoda said, and I nodded.  Denying it would have been stupid.  Before he could say more, I spoke of our arrival on New Apsolon, and what Tahl had been doing there.  These were details that the Council knew already, reported by Tahl herself, but it was a good place to start.  I told Yoda of how she had been abducted, vanishing into thin air despite the watchful efforts of Qui-Gon and myself.  I told the Master about how I had followed Qui-Gon through the city, running at a break-neck pace, as Qui-Gon had traced Tahl’s Force signature.  I mentioned my fall through the catwalk, telling Qui-Gon to go on without me.

 

I paused, because it had seemed like the best idea at the time.  Now I wasn’t so sure.  The time it had taken me to catch up, hobbled by pain and broken bone, and the time it had taken Qui-Gon to fight through the Absolutes that had waited in the tunnel… If we had been together, Balog would not have had time to administer the last, fatal dose of narcotics, one of many her system had suffered under while she had been tortured.  Qui-Gon had told me so, cold rage in his eyes, before we left New Apsolon. 

 

_This is your fault._

 

Those were the last words he had spoken to me.

 

I closed my eyes as cold wrapped itself around my body and squeezed my heart with icy tendrils.  Force only knew what kind of punishment was reserved for Padawans who had gotten one of our own killed.  “It’s my fault,” I said at last, swallowing my own pain to speak.  “If I hadn’t fallen, she would still be here.”

 

Yoda was silent.  Even though I couldn’t bear to stand the thought of Master Yoda thinking me a disappointment, I looked at him anyway.  To my surprise, the ancient Master was looking at me with something close to alarm.  “Your fault this is not, Obi-Wan.  Harsh were your Master’s words.  Pain he was in.”

 

I met his eyes, finding no censure there, nor any hint of platitude.  “How could it not be?” I asked, my voice cracking.  I remembered Qui-Gon’s words, and the ice that had accompanied them.  _You should have been there!  If I had gotten there sooner, she would still be alive!  I trusted you to be at my side!_   “He looked at me like… like… I was _him_!”  I swallowed hard, my throat swollen tight.  Guilt was singing through my veins, making my blood run hot and cold at once.

 

Yoda tilted his head, his eyes sad.  “Xanatos, you are not.”  He sighed.  “Gimer stick, over Qui-Gon Jinn’s head I will break,” he muttered.  I frowned.  Never had I heard Yoda speak in such a way.  “Came straight here, the two of you did, to bring Tahl home.  Told us that, at least, Qui-Gon did.  Tended to your wounds, you have?”

 

That shocked me back into realizing that my leg was still throbbing at me.  “No.  I didn’t really have the time.”  Or the chance.  Qui-Gon had not offered to stop at any medical establishment, or to help me with the injury.  I had tended it as best I could with the small med-kit our ship had, rewrapping my leg with my tabards and a long strip of metal for support.  It was enough so that I could do what needed doing to get us home.  Qui-Gon hadn’t offered to help pilot our ship, either. 

 

Yoda stood up, leaning on his gimer stick, and gave me a firm glare.  “With me you must come, Padawan.  To the Healers we will go, and treated your wounds will be.”

 

I bit back the desire to say no.  I didn’t really want to go see a Healer, either, or I would have done that when we got back to the Temple.  Telling Yoda that I would prefer not to would probably go over as well as telling the ancient Master to go away.  I put my own desires aside, which included sitting in the hologram until the end of time, and levered myself to my feet.

 

Except that once I stood, my balance deserted me.  I fell back to the floor, darkness claiming me so fast that I didn’t even have time to be surprised.

 

I came to when something jarred my leg, and I stuffed both my hands in my mouth and screamed around them.  It muffled the noise, but it did not diminish the white-hot, agonizing fire that climbed my leg and twisted my insides.

 

I was lying on a bed, and there were familiar noises and smells around me that I usually preferred to avoid.  “Sorry, Obi,” I heard Abella whisper, genuine remorse in her voice.  “But we’ve got to cut everything off of your leg, and it’s not easy.”

 

I realized my head was pillowed on something warm and soft, and opened my eyes to find Yoda staring down at me.  Yoda blinked sleepy-seeming eyes, and a cloud of Force energy descended down onto my skin, enveloping me with warmth.  The pain became a distant thing, and when there was another tug on my leg, I felt pressure and nothing more.  “How did I get here?”  I didn’t remember walking down to the Healers’ Ward.

 

“Carried you, I did,” Yoda said, his ears twitching as he let another bundle of Force energy settle onto me.  “Fell down, you did, when standing you tried.  Do that again, you should not.”

 

I felt my body relax even further, and for the first time in days the terrible tension in my shoulders eased.  “Do that again, I will not,” I agreed, letting my eyes drift closed.  It would be nice to sleep through whatever the Healers were doing to my leg, but I didn’t seem able to let go.

 

There was a sharp gasp that made me open my eyes.  “Obi-Wan Kenobi, what in all of the hells reserved for the Sith did you do to yourself?” Terza asked, the Healer’s outraged face inches from my own.

 

I couldn’t help it; I smiled at her.  “I knew you were going to yell at me.”

 

“Yell hells, you little ninny,” she retorted, and her anger faded as quickly as it had erupted.  She brushed her long, graceful fingers along the side of my face, and I could feel the tingling hints of her healing gift through my skin.  “I don’t know if I can fix this, Obi-Wan.  You… there’s at least two breaks, and one of them is a compound fracture.  That, and the wound tracks… You shouldn’t have waited so long to have this treated.  Infection has set in.  You could very well lose the leg.”

 

I considered her words, and realized that one way or another, I didn’t much care.  “Do whatever you can, Healer.  I’ll live with the results.”

 

Terza’s lip twisted in bitterness.  “Yes, I suppose you’ll have to.  This should have been dealt with days ago!  Why wasn’t it?”

 

“There wasn’t time,” I said, annoyed at having to answer the same question yet again.

 

“And where’s your Master?” the Healer snapped, stepping back to stare down at the mess that was my right leg.  I followed her gaze and immediately wished I hadn’t– I caught a hint of white, a lot of red, and angry purple and yellow blotches, and looked away.  My stomach lurched, and I held onto its scant contents by sheer force of will.  I had received terrible injuries before, but I didn’t remember any of them looking quite that… bad.

 

Yoda glanced down at me again, and I realized they were both waiting to hear the answer to the question.  “I don’t know,” I whispered, hating myself even more as I said it.  The training bond had been silenced, and I hadn’t been able to feel it in so long that I was afraid it was gone.  Once Qui-Gon had left my sight in the Temple hangar bay, I had lost all sense of him.

 

Terza cursed under her breath.  “Can you get him under, Master Yoda?”

 

Yoda blinked at her, radiating a vague sense of frustration and amusement.  “Trying, I have been,” he said.  “Stubborn, Obi-Wan is.  Successful, Master Qui-Gon may be.”

 

“Padawan, go track down Master Jinn,” Terza said to Abella, who had been standing by, wringing her furred hands.  “I don’t care what he’s doing, just get him down here.”  The Chitanook girl gave me a faint smile and disappeared in a flutter of dark robes, shutting the privacy curtain behind her.

 

No, I wanted to protest, but Terza moved something, and I lurched up off the bed with my heart in my throat and stars exploding in front of my eyes.  I fell back down in a heap when the pain subsided to a dull roar.  It was a wonder I hadn’t sent Master Yoda flying.  The work that he was doing to soothe my pain must only work up to a point.

 

“I’m sorry, Obi-Wan,” Terza said, her eyes dark with regret.  “But I’ve got to be able to set the breaks.  I only just moved a bone back into alignment.  Setting it will be much worse.”

 

 _Painkillers?_ I asked her, propping myself up on an elbow to look at her pleadingly.  For once I would have been happy to be injected with something– _anything_.

 

She shook her head, pushing a tendril of her red hair away from her face as she worked.  “Not with as long as this has gone on, Obi-Wan.  With the amount of antibiotics I’m about to put in your system, and your body so run down, I’m afraid that’s not an option.”

 

Unhappiness.  I gritted my teeth as the very strange sensation of disinfectant being wiped over exposed bone attacked my nerves.  “Just… warn me next time, okay?”

 

She met my eyes, and I could see an almost motherly concern there, along with a healthy dose of frustration.  “Brave boy,” Terza said with a forced smile.  “Just stop coming to my Ward in pieces, all right?  I’d like to see you live past your twentieth birthday.”

 

“All right,” I agreed, letting my head fall back to rest on Master Yoda’s lap again.  His clawed hand patted my shoulder comfortingly.  “But I keep telling everyone that I don’t plan these things.”

 

“Healer Terza?”

 

I closed my eyes with a muted groan. _Gods, Bella,_ I thought to myself.  _Why do you have to be so bloody efficient all the time?_ I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t need to see those blue eyes looking upon me in anger again.  Or indifference.  That would be so much worse– that my Master would move past his anger into not caring any longer whether I lived or died.

 

That thought alone was enough to hurt my heart even further, and I felt tears leak from my eyes to slide back into my hair.

 

I wished I could have died in her place. 

 

“There you are!” Terza yelled, and I flinched.  “Where the hell have you been?”

 

I heard Qui-Gon’s distinctive step, and Abella’s softer one, approach the perimeter of the curtain.  “That is not your concern,” Qui-Gon said, his voice cold.  I was glad that this time, at least, it wasn’t directed at me. 

 

“Bullshit it’s not!” the Healer roared, and I was astonished.  If I thought she’d be angry with me, Jale Terza was furious with my Master.  “Or have you forgotten where your responsibilities lie?”

 

“I have more pressing issues at hand than worrying about my Padawan’s cuts and bruises,” Qui-Gon replied, and even to me it was obvious that his focus was elsewhere.

_Note to self,_ I thought, as Terza gasped in fury.  _Try to be more obvious._

 

“Cuts and bruises?” Terza yelled.  “Cuts and bruises!?  You’re going to be lucky if you’ve still got a Padawan with two legs!”

 

Not that there weren’t replacement options, I thought.  It would be interesting to try to do the versatile movements of the Sixth kata on something artificial.

 

“You will watch your words, Healer,” Qui-Gon said, his voice low and dangerous.  “I am sure it is nothing that you cannot handle.”

 

“Your place is here!” Terza replied, vehement.  “I’m sorry she’s dead, Master Jinn, but your place is at your Padawan’s side!  Or has so much changed in three years that you think so little of him?  I certainly don’t see that same man, who I once couldn’t pry from my Ward, here today!”

 

“Stop it,” I whispered, but they didn’t hear.  I would deal with the pain; I could deal with anything they could think to throw at me, but listening to my primary Healer and my Master yell at each other was becoming unbearable.

 

“Nothing has changed!” Qui-Gon replied, his voice rising, but the words sounded defensive.

 

“I want to know why I had to send my Padawan to find you!” Terza yelled back.  “You should have known something was wrong!”

 

I could sense something from my Master, then.  A crumbling… 

 

Suddenly I could stand the thought of Terza flaying my Master no longer.

 

_LEAVE.  HIM.  ALONE!_

 

I felt Yoda flinch, but at least there was silence.  Blessed, blessed silence.  Then, to my surprise, there was a reply.

 

 _For Force’s sake, Jale,_ I heard Mace Windu’s mental voice say.   _Have Qui-Gon put that boy under before he deafens us all._

 

I moaned and covered my face with my hands.  I hadn’t meant to be _that_ loud.     

 

 _All right it is,_ Yoda said, and I had a feeling that the ancient Master was pleased with me. _Their attention you got, and shut up they did.  Thought of that, I should have._

 

“Beats bashing them in the head with a stick,” I mumbled, fighting an insane urge to laugh.  That urge faded the moment I tried to shift in the bed, and my leg told me just what a horrible idea that was.  My fists went back to my mouth as I stifled another cry.  I didn’t bother to open my eyes to look at my leg, because Force knew how bad it was now.

 

“Well,” I heard Terza say.  “Now that he’s got your attention…” I heard her draw back the curtain that surrounded the bed.  “Does that look like a bruise to you?”

 

“No,” Qui-Gon breathed, and I could hear the stunned amazement in my Master’s voice.  “I… gods.  You were walking on that?”

 

I smiled despite the pain; it was the first time Qui-Gon had spoken to me in days.  “There was no choice.”

 

“There is always another choice,” Qui-Gon bit out, his voice much closer.  Then he sighed.  “Not that I gave you many options.”

 

“No, I suppose not,” I replied, wondering how long we were going to verbally dance around each other.  The bond was still a silent link between us.  “I don’t suppose you’d mind putting me under?  I would prefer not to be awake for this.”

 

Fingers touched and then gripped my hand, and I resisted the urge to pull away.  It was my Master’s hand, but it was far colder than I had ever known it to be.  I opened my eyes in surprise, looking at my Master and meeting Qui-Gon’s eyes for the first time since Tahl died.

 

I bit back a horrified noise, swamped by the pain I found there, by the weight Qui-Gon’s face seemed to have lost, and the grief that was now etched into his features.  _I’m sorry,_ I said, my lungs trying to seize in grief and guilt.  _I would take it back if I could._

 

Qui-Gon made an exasperated noise _. Fool of a Padawan,_ he whispered back, the bond falling open again.  It wasn’t the quite the same as it had been a week ago, but it was still better than nothing, and I tried wrapping myself in the fragile filaments of it, relieved beyond measure. _I’m not sure which of us is more foolish; I for the blame I cast, or you for…_  He shook his head.  “Sleep, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said, the Force command stronger than any I had ever felt before.

 

I fell into blackness, but not before I projected one more thought as I sensed part of my Master’s intent. _Don’t you_ dare _go anywhere without me._

 

 

                                    ****    ****    ****    ****

 

 

I fell out of the kata, hissing in a breath as barely healed bones protested in anger at the form I had been attempting.  I sat on the floor of the training salle and cursed myself, the floor, my leg, grates, the Absolutes, and everything else I could think of.

 

When I trailed off, running out of vocabulary, I was surprised to hear clapping.  I half-turned to find Mace Windu standing in the doorway, a wry grin on his face as he kept applauding.  “Bravo, Padawan Kenobi.  I haven’t heard a recitation that inventive since my last visit home.”

 

“You’re welcome,” I said, dipping my head in acknowledgement of the Councilor’s presence before hauling myself back onto my feet.  “May I help you with something, Master Windu?”

 

He nodded, still smiling.  “Healer Terza comm’d and told me that you’d escaped from her clutches before she was ready to let you go, and asked me to find you.  It wasn’t hard to guess that you’d be down here.”

 

I reignited my lightsaber, taking up the first position in the Fifth kata again.  “Am I so predictable, then?” I asked, making the first pass.  It put my full weight on the leg I’d shattered, and I grimaced and focused on ignoring the lingering pain.

 

“Not really,” Mace replied, watching my form with a critical eye.  “Watch that wrist.”

 

I dutifully moved my wrist back into proper alignment and launched into the flying leap of the third position.  “Not really, but for…?”

 

“In the matter of Qui-Gon Jinn, your motives are perfectly clear, Obi-Wan.  Your Master has informed the Council that he is going to seek out the leader of the Absolutes.  We protested, of course, but I don’t think he wasn’t listening.” 

 

“Balog.”  I dropped out of the Fifth, disengaging my lightsaber.  “I thought he might.”

 

“His transport is scheduled to leave in fifteen minutes,” Mace said, and I managed to invent several new words, after all.

 

“Dammit, I told him—” I grabbed my cloak from the back of an abandoned chair, walking as fast as I could for the exit.

 

Mace gripped my shoulder before I could leave, giving me a worried stare.  “Obi-Wan, you know what he plans to do.”

 

“Of course I do,” I said, clipping my lightsaber to my belt.  My Master might have seemed like the epitome of calm in the last week, but those who knew him best…  Qui-Gon Jinn was in a burning rage.  I was very aware of his desires in the matter of Os Balog.

 

“What are you going to do?”

 

I smiled, so weary even now that it was difficult to believe.  The training bond was a fragile thread between us, and I felt like I had been trying to avoid the broken glass that had been our life together.  Trying to keep an eye on my Master while staying out of the way of his anger was enough to drive anyone insane.  “I’m going to try and make sure he doesn’t do something monumentally stupid, Master Windu.  That’s all I can do.”

 

Mace surprised me by giving me a hurried embrace.  “I know that you will do your best, and if anyone can keep Qui-Gon from Falling, it’s you.  But no matter what happens… Make sure you come back, Obi-Wan Kenobi.” Mace yanked on my Padawan braid hard, his eyes full of concern for me, and concern for my Master.  Qui-Gon had become one of Mace Windu’s few friends.  I did not even think my Master truly recognized how much the Councilor cared about him.

 

“I will come back,” I replied.  It wasn’t my own return that I was worried about.

 

“Transport Jay Two Nine, Landing platform seven.  I’ll delay the pilot so that you can make it with time to spare.”  Mace stepped back, leaving the door clear for me.  It was a huge measure of trust on Master Windu’s part, and I wondered when the Councilor had decided to place so much faith in one scrawny Padawan. 

 

I looked at Mace, grateful that he was going to allow me the chance to try to save Qui-Gon from himself.  “Thank you.”

 

 

                                    ****    ****    ****    ****

 

 

I knew that my Master had many contacts in many different places, but I learned in the course of a week just how many– and how many of these people owed a favor to Qui-Gon Jinn.

 

Dexter Jettster, who I had thought of nothing more than a short order chef who ingested a bit too much of his own cooking, turned out to know enough people in the wrong places to get a lead on Os Balog’s whereabouts.  I was never, ever going to look at the man quite the same way again.  Of course, Dexter hadn’t looked comfortable about revealing his sordid past in front of ‘the kid’, either. 

 

We traveled to Nar Shaddaa, then.  Qui-Gon didn’t speak to me the entire journey, and I let him keep his silence.  I wasn’t so sure I wanted to talk to him right then, anyway. 

 

I don’t even know what I could have possibly said.

 

We paced through some of the moon’s upper boundaries, finding a human female named Salla Zend when she tried to take my credit pouch.  She was far too knowledgeable about the darkness in this part of the galaxy than any thirteen year old girl had a right to be, but she treated us as family when she learned that Dex had sent us.

 

Salla pointed us in the direction of Selonia– or more importantly, to a waystation in orbit above the planet.

 

Our pilot took us there without comment, and I’d learned in the meantime that both he and the ship were one of Qui-Gon’s owed favors.  The wraith-like De’Fel would scarcely speak but to inform us of our arrival and departure times, and balked at telling me his name.  All I knew was a string of identification codes for his ship, and half of them were forged.

 

I’d thought it odd that Qui-Gon managed to secure transport off of Coruscant without the help of the Order.  I was learning far more about my Master than he perhaps wanted me to know, but I was his shadow now, whether he wanted me trailing along behind or not.  He didn’t acknowledge me, but he didn’t order me away, either.

 

Not that I would have gone.  I didn’t know how I was going to keep my Master from Falling, but I knew I couldn’t just abandon him and hope for the best. 

 

The waystation was occupied only by its caretaker, but there was a fresh ion trail leading away from the orbital platform.  I watched my Master work with our mysterious pilot to trace the ion trail. 

 

The De’Fel grunted, plugging in a new set of coordinates, and we were off to Ord Mantell.

 

I had a really, really bad feeling about this.

 

 

 

Os Balog hadn’t bothered to cover his tracks.  Either he didn’t believe we would follow him this far, or he’d stopped caring.  We traced him easily through Ord Mantell’s great city, drifting from one casino to the next.  Weapons weren’t allowed in the establishments, but Qui-Gon waved his hand and told security we were on official Jedi business.

 

Normally I would have said something.  Hells, I normally would have thrown a fit over such a flagrant lie.  Considering who we were searching for, though, discretion seemed the better part of survival.  I gritted my teeth, said nothing, and let a guard place a chip on my lightsaber that would make it invisible to casino alarms.

 

As if sensing my thoughts, my Master gave me a scathing glare, which I pretended to ignore.  He muttered something inaudible under his breath, walking so fast that his cloak flared out behind him.  I followed, keeping an eye out for trouble.  I didn’t expect to find any here, but I had enough problems on-hand without failing to notice some potential mishap.  It was dark enough out on the boardwalk to make me leery of alleys and side streets.

 

Qui-Gon stopped to confer with a member of the city’s public security force.  “This way,” he said, heading for a row of available speeders.  Those were the first words he had directed at me since we left Coruscant. 

 

He pointed at one of the speeders and crossed his arms, obviously waiting.  I felt like rolling my eyes.  Qui-Gon had never seemed the haughty type, but now he waited with obvious impatience for me to haggle with the clerk for the rental of one speeder for an undisclosed amount of time.  At least being a Jedi worked in my favor, and I got the rental for a much fairer price than others were charged.  I just hoped my savings would forgive me the serious dent I’d just made in it, because this was one time I was not going to be compensated for expenses.

 

He might have been willing to let my account take the damage, but my Master was not willing to let me pilot.  I sat beside him, trying not to fidget in the intense chill Qui-Gon was projecting.

 

 _You know, Master Dooku might have been scary at times, but right now I bet you could give him a run for his money,_ I sent, trying to hide my nerves under a veneer of annoyance.

 

Qui-Gon was startled enough that his foot dropped off the accelerator.  He caught himself and brought the vehicle back up to speed, glancing at me.  It was the first time I’d shared my thoughts with him in quite some time.  _He would probably be pleased,_ Qui-Gon replied, turning his attention back to the road we were following.

 

I snorted.  Yes, that sounded rather like Master Dooku.  _He would be the only one,_ I dared to say.

 

That earned me another glare, but I didn’t care.  It was a response, at least.

 

My Master brought the speeder to a halt.  There was a giant crane assembly, several abandoned diggers, and a lot of piles of dark rock that blended in with the night sky.  We were near one of Ord Mantell’s ore processing plants, abandoned for the night so that the workers could enjoy the dubious pleasure of the casinos.  The site itself was much cleaner than processing plants on this planet usually were, which I appreciated. I could hear rushing water, and guessed that there was a river nearby, probably prompting their efforts at cleanliness.  A catwalk spanned a canyon just ahead, and I resisted the urge to groan.  I was heartily tired of catwalks.

 

I got out of the craft with one hand brushing against my lightsaber.  Something was not right...

 

I ducked, the warning from the Force coming just in time.  The laser blast just missed my hair.  I hit the ground, rolling away from the speeder, coming to rest behind an outcropping of rock.  My lightsaber was now in my hand, though I didn’t ignite it yet.

 

Qui-Gon was squatting just behind the speeder, his lightsaber casting a pale green glow on his skin.  “At least we know we’re on the right track,” I said, wincing when another shot impacted the rock just above my head.

 

Qui-Gon ignored me, standing up to meet a shot that came in his direction.  He deflected the bolt neatly, and charged forward– right for the catwalk.

 

“Oh, for– wait!” I yelled, running after him as blaster bolts rained down around us.

 

I blocked several that would have hit me and ignored the rest.  Qui-Gon was striding forward like an angry god, deflecting the occasional blaster shot with careless grace.  I would have been impressed if I hadn’t known of his intent.

 

Whoever was shooting at us was at the end of the catwalk, which was directly over the center of the canyon.  There was a tiny room there, with windows that had been broken and a door that didn’t seem to work.  The muzzle flash of a blaster came from the doorway, and I ducked the energy bolt with ease.  The shots were becoming desperate and random, and I was no longer worried about an ambush.

 

Os Balog was alone.

 

“BALOG!” Qui-Gon roared, his lightsaber held in one hand as he stopped in the center of the catwalk.  “You owe me a life!”

 

 

                                    ****    ****    ****    ****

 

There was darkness, but it was a wet darkness.  Wait….  My confusion was enough for me to realize that something was wrong.

 

I woke up to Qui-Gon’s face inches from mine, screaming words at me that I couldn’t understand.  For some reason, he was soaking wet.  I opened my mouth to speak– and coughed out terrible mouthfuls of bitter water instead.

 

He hauled me bodily into his arms, turning me over enough so that it was easier to cough out the water.  Even when the water was done, I couldn’t seem to stop coughing.  I tried to speak again, and Qui-Gon shushed me.  _Breathe first.  Talk later._

 

I was bewildered, held in an awkward position, and, I realized, soaking wet as well.  Water dripped from my hair, and my entire body felt numb.  “What…” I began, and coughed so hard I nearly retched.  Perhaps my Master had the better idea. _What happened?_ I asked, surprised to find my own mental voice so weak.

 

“I…” Qui-Gon hesitated.  “You fell into the river.  I was terrified…”  To my complete and utter bafflement, Qui-Gon burst into harsh, dry sobs.

 

I shifted in his arms, reaching up to touch his face, and it felt like I was swimming through drying mud to do so.  I was so tired and worn it didn’t seem possible.  What in the hell had happened?

 

Qui-Gon’s hands, as cold and icy as mine were, gripped my fingers painfully.  His blue eyes, so closed and dark of late, were bright now with grief.  Not knowing what else to do, I drew him into my arms.  I laid my cheek upon thick strands of his wet hair, and wanted to cry.  I had not been in the circle of Qui-Gon’s arms in so long…

 

Qui-Gon sighed, a ragged, shuddering breath, and cried into my soaked tunics.  I let him, tears of my own running down my face.  Whatever had happened, it was over now.  I closed my eyes, relief and exhaustion pulling me back down into darkness.  I went willingly, for I carried my hope with me.

 

He was going to be all right.

 

 

 

I sipped warm soup, too tired to make a face over the retched taste.  It was part of a ration pack, and it was the only thing that had survived our mystery dunking.  A fire danced off the walls of the cave that Qui-Gon had deposited us in, making shadows dance over the clothes that were hung here and there in an effort to dry them.  My pants were thin, and dried quickly, but the same could not be said for my tunics, or my robe, but my robe was warm even when it was wet.  I was wrapped in it, leaning against a damp log.  The wet wood wasn’t an ideal seat, but it was better than rock. 

 

Qui-Gon was crouched in front of the fire, cursing it in five different languages as he fed it damp driftwood he’d fetched from the nearby shore.  The river was close enough to provide a constant rush of background noise.  “Tell me what happened,” I said.  I still remembered nothing, and my head was throbbing in time with my heart. 

 

“Which part?” Qui-Gon asked, not looking up.  I could sense that he didn’t want to talk about it.  I hated to press him, fearful of driving him away from me again, but I had to know.

 

I took another swallow of the soup, letting its warmth slide down my throat.  I was still so cold that my bones ached.  “All of it.  I don’t remember anything after you yelled for the bastard to come out of his hole.”

 

He closed his eyes.  He looked tired, more so than I had ever seen.  Even when Tahl had died, anger had given his face a strange, harsh beauty.  Now weariness lined his face, and there seemed to be more gray in his hair than there had been yesterday.  “I would really prefer not to.  I would prefer not to think of the last few weeks ever again.”

 

“I know,” I whispered.  “Please tell me.”

 

Qui-Gon stared into the flames of the fire for a long time without comment.  “Balog rushed out with a blaster in one hand, a dagger in the other.  His shots were wild, easy to duck around.  I sliced through the weapon and part of his hand.  He fell to his knees.  His eyes were as wild as his aim.  He knew why I was there.  I stood over him with… with my lightsaber at his throat.  And you said one word.”  He looked up at me, radiating distress.  “You said:  Don’t.”

 

 _Don’t.  Don’t do this._  His words were starting to bring flashes of memory with them.  I remembered Qui-Gon whirling at me… and remembered heat at my throat. 

 

“I think, for a moment, that I forgot Balog existed.  My anger… was suddenly directed at you.”  He looked away again.  “I attacked you.”  He swallowed hard.  “I accused you of terrible things.”

 

_Did you think I did not know?_

 

“Things that I know are not true… but still I said them.”

 

 _Did you think that killing Tahl would get you what you wanted?_   I winced, the words more painful now than when I had first heard them.  There had been no time for that pain, then.  I felt hot tears fill my ears and blinked them away.  Not true, never true—

 

“You flinched… as if you had been struck.  But you held your ground.  You never even ignited your lightsaber.”  His eyes—those warm blue eyes that I loved— were running freely now.

 

_You know that what you say is not true._

 

The words began to tumble out in a rush.  “I was ready to kill you, and you stood there… ready to let me.”

 

_I will not fight you, Master._

 

“I think I screamed at you to ignite your damned lightsaber.  You shook your head… and you smiled at me.”

 

_I have always followed where you have led, but I can’t follow you into the Dark._

 

“It… it caught my attention, as nothing else would have.  I have always liked your smile.”  Qui-Gon admitted this to me with something akin to embarrassment.

 

_No matter how much I love you._

 

“I stood there… looking at you… and I realized that…that you had stood by me through more horror than any Padawan—any child—should ever see.  I realized that I had visited most of that horror upon you myself.”  He took a deep breath.  “I told you… that I had lost everything in my life.  My friends and my lovers were all ash.  I said that I was alone.  And you said…”

 

 _You are_ not _alone.  I’m still here.  I will always be here for you._

 

“Like a first year twit…  I had turned my back on the most dangerous person on that catwalk.  You saw what I did not.  You screamed and shoved me aside so hard that the railing knocked the breath from my lungs.”

 

That, I remembered.  Os wasn’t so far gone that he wasn’t going to take advantage of a turned back.  _Qui-Gon!  NO!_

 

“I watched with perfect clarity as the knife that Balog had thrown sailed through the air.  What was meant for my back…”  Qui-Gon shuddered.  “Thank the Force it was a lousy throw.  The knife hilt bounced off your forehead.  It stunned you enough that you stumbled, reaching out to catch yourself on the railing opposite me.  Before I could catch my breath, before I could react, the railing broke.  You fell…”

 

 _Bloody catwalks…_ and blackness.  There was nothing more in my memories beyond that thought and waking up on the bank of the river.

 

His voice hitched.  “I was afraid that I had come to my senses only in time to watch you die.  I couldn’t let… I wasn’t going to let that happen.  I shoved Balog aside, and leapt over the railing to follow you.  You must have hit your head on something when you fell, because you were unconscious before you hit the water.”  Qui-Gon’s eyes were distant, and I knew he was reliving that moment.  “I couldn’t find you at first.  I hit the water moments after you did, but the current was so fast…”  He smiled.  “I reached out, grasping, and to my surprise I got a handful of your boot.  Fortunately, it was still attached to the rest of you.  I pulled you out of the river… and I think I yelled at you the entire time I was trying to get you to breathe.”

 

I pulled my robe tighter around me.  I almost died, and I had slept through the entire thing.  The very concept… I couldn’t even begin to know how to feel about that. 

 

I could, at least, be grateful.  “You saved my life,” I said, my voice catching.

 

His eyes met mine, and Qui-Gon smiled, shaking his head.  “But Obi-Wan… you have saved my life.  In more times, and in more ways, than I could ever repay you for.  From the first day we met…”

 

I looked away, my throat tight, my eyes burning.  I knew he spoke the truth, but…  “Let me back in.  Please.”

 

The icy threads of our bond thawed, became blazing filaments that helped to disperse the lingering cold in my body.  I gasped, dropping my head, so relieved to have that warmth back that tears dropped from my eyes.  I could feel his relief, his regret, his sincerity… and his love.

 

Fingers that were warmer than my skin touched my cheek, brushing them away.  “Forgive me, my Padawan,” Qui-Gon whispered, his face suddenly inches from mine.  Close enough to kiss.  But I did not.  I dared not.

 

“Of course I forgive you,” I choked out, trying to smile.  “How could I not?  Just… don’t ever do that again.  Don’t ever shut me out again.”

 

“I will not.  I promise.”

 

 

 

****    ****    ****    ****

 

 

Things weren’t exactly wine and roses after that, but they were better.  I don’t think we will ever have quite the same sort of ease around each other again, not like before.  I will, however, take what I can get.

 

We stood before the Council, though only half of its members were present:  Master Windu, Master Billaba, Master Yoda, Knight Mundi, Master Tiin, and Master Gallia.  They were studying us as one would study an interesting new fungus under a microscope.  I realized then– none of them had expected Qui-Gon to return. 

 

We finished recounting what had happened on Ord Mantell, presented in the form of one of our typical mission reports.  Later, perhaps, I could share some of the more personal moments with Master Yoda, and I had a feeling that Qui-Gon might do the same.  I often wondered if Yoda acted as a confidant to all of the Jed in the Temple. 

 

Mace leaned forward, his expression concerned.  “What happened to Os Balog?”

 

Qui-Gon shook his head.  “I don’t know.  I would gather that after we abandoned him on the mining platform, he took the opportunity to escape.”  _I just wish to never lay eyes on the man again._

 

 _Seconded,_ I replied.

 

“So, we’ve got a rogue criminal wandering the galaxy, with no immediate clues as to his whereabouts,” Knight Mundi said, and sighed.  “I suppose I’ll have to go look for him.”

 

“The Senate has already given the Jedi leave to search for him,” Depa Billaba said, after a quick glance at the comm feed in the arm of her chair.  “There is a modified covert transport at your disposal, Ki, if you want it.”

 

Knight Mundi nodded decisively.  “I’ll leave in the morning, then.  Master Jinn, if you would leave me a copy of the path you took to trace him the first time, I would be grateful.”

 

Qui-Gon inclined his head.  “You will have them before your departure.”

 

I glanced at Qui-Gon, pleased.  Knight Mundi had proven himself very proficient at finding those who didn’t want to be found.  If anyone could bring the bastard to justice, it would be him.

 

“Padawan Kenobi,” Yoda called, and everyone’s attention was once again focused on me. 

 

I met several pairs of eyes and found nothing but serenity… and pride.  “Yes, Master Yoda?”  I swallowed past a tickle in my throat.

 

“A great debt, the Jedi owe you,” he said, surprising me.  “Thank you, this Council does.”

 

I bowed my head.  “I only did what was necessary.”  Damn it all, but it sounded like such a trivial answer!  I could feel Qui-Gon’s amusement through the newly re-opened training bond, though, and knew that he understood what I could not say with words.

 

“Obi-Wan…” Adi Gallia spoke my name gently, and I glanced at her.  “You must know that very few Jedi return to us when they have given into their anger so completely.  It is not often discussed, but it is true.”

 

Oh.  “It was his choice, not mine,” I said.

 

Qui-Gon snorted.  “Obi-Wan, if you had not been there, I would have killed him.  I would not have looked back.”  There was stark honesty in his words, and I forced myself to accept the truth of them.

 

I bowed stiffly, my bruised body not allowing for much flexibility.  “I accept your thanks.  But I still think–” The tickle in my throat grew.  I held my breath, not willing to let it go.  Then I wondered what kind of idiot would stand on _that_ much dignity, and let out a ratcheting cough that could have put a hookah smoker to shame.

 

“What’s wrong with him?” I heard Mace demand of Qui-Gon.

 

“Pneumonia, I guess,” I answered, listening to my own breathing.  Even to me, my lungs sounded congested.  “I did go for quite a swim, Master.”

 

“What the hell are you doing here, then?” Mace continued, glaring at my Master. 

 

Qui-Gon managed a bland, innocent expression.  “You did demand that we report here first.”

 

I watched Mace roll his eyes.  “Get out of here.  Go take your Padawan to see Terza.  I’ll let her yell at you.  She’s better at it than I am.”

 

The rest of the Council gave us serene nods, despite several smiles, and I let Qui-Gon lead me from the chamber.

 

Once we were outside, and the doors had closed behind us, I leaned against the wall.  “You used me to score points against the Council,” I said, amused.

 

“Of course I did, and since you insisted upon going to the Council first as well, you can hardly blame me.”  He grinned.  “Wasn’t it fun?”

 

I grinned back.  Despite the new lines on his face, and the weariness I could sense from him, he had not been this relaxed in weeks.  Possibly months.  Perhaps it even went as far back as Micah Giett’s death.

 

I was right; Qui-Gon and I were not going to have the same relationship we had enjoyed before Tahl’s murder.

 

I believed now that, given enough time, we might have something better.

 

 

                                    ****    ****    ****    ****

 

 

“I had asked Tahl to bond with me.”  Qui-Gon said the words normally, but they hit me like the blow of an ax.  My Master took a sip of his tea, either not noticing or not commenting on my sudden lack of oxygen.  We were sitting at our kitchen table, just past dawn.  We were to meet with Finis Valorum in two hours in his office, and I had a feeling that the Chancellor was going to ask us to go to Naboo.  The blockade had been in effect for a month, and efforts to belay the Trade Federation’s actions were going nowhere.  If the Chancellor was going to act, now was as good a time as any.

 

I had been thinking about the fragments of last night’s dreams, and the strange flashes of red and green, trying to make sense of them.  Qui-Gon had spoken apropos of nothing.  ‘Good Morning’ and ‘I had asked Tahl to bond with me’ were two statements I had not been ready to hear together.  I gathered my control and my wits, and managed to say in a voice that did not betray a hint of my pain:  “When was the ceremony going to be?”

 

“She said no.”

 

I stared at him in surprise.  For all intents and purposes, Tahl and Qui-Gon had been all but bonded already.  My throat dry, I asked, “But… that makes no sense.  Why?”

 

Qui-Gon set his mug of tea down on the table.  “She told me that as much as she cared for me, she could not bond with me… when there was someone who loved me more than she would ever be able to.”  He looked at me then, and for a moment the knowledge that I had always struggled to hide was there in his eyes.

 

My heart skipped a beat, but I managed to sound casual.  “Then one day, that other person would owe her a very grave debt.”

 

He nodded, picking up his tea mug again.  “Indeed.”  He cradled the steaming cup in his hands, considering.  “Obi-Wan… I don’t know if I can be… what this person needs me to be for them.  I do not…” he paused.  “I do not give of myself half-heartedly.”

 

For some reason, that hardened my resolve.  Qui-Gon might never love me, but I would be damned if I wouldn’t still try.  “Master… you should probably let them worry about that.”

 

He smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he lifted the cup to his lips.  “Perhaps I should.”

 

 

                                    ****    ****    ****    ****

 

 

I was pacing the cargo bay, because it was the only place large enough on the Queen’s vessel to pace.  Well, there was that throne viewing room of hers, but it tended to be occupied.  I whirled, my cloak flaring out behind me, and tried not to think about the fact that I was avoiding my Master like one would avoid certain nasty plagues. 

 

It occurred to me that Qui-Gon was avoiding me, as well, because how else could I have managed to not see him for a full day?  The ship was of decent size, but it wasn’t _that_ large.

 

I tried very hard to bury the little voice in my head:  _He broke his promise.  He shut you out._   The bond had been quiet since our argument on the landing platform.  No, not just quiet.  _Stifled._

 

I wanted to do a kata, or indulge in some serious acrobatics, but there wasn’t enough height in the bay for that.  I settled for running, then, my own words echoing in my head.  _The boy is dangerous.  They all see it; why can’t you?_

 

I had misspoken, but the dark implications I couldn’t stop seeing in Anakin Skywalker’s future had left me desperate to at least catch Qui-Gon’s attention.  I had caught his attention, all right– in the worst possible manner.  I’d managed to make my Master so angry that he’d ordered me aboard the ship like a misbehaving Initiate.  It was part of the reason I was still angry, though I had to admit I was just as angry with myself as I was with my stubborn jackass of a Master.

 

There were worse things to consider.  I might have been speaking to Qui-Gon, but I wasn’t so damned oblivious to not see the hurt in Anakin’s eyes as he’d overheard my words.

 

I felt like the biggest monster in the universe.

 

I increased my speed and ran up the wall, flipping over backwards as I reached the apex, landing with a muted thud back on the floor.  Decision made, I resettled my cloak around my shoulders and set off to find where Queen Amidala had stashed Anakin.  I might not have been ready to speak to Qui-Gon yet, but I owed the child an apology.  Besides, if Qui-Gon managed to bully the Council into allowing him to teach Anakin, I was going to be seeing a lot more of Skywalker than my own twitchy nerves might like.

 

I knocked on the door that Amidala directed me to, and stood there for a full minute of unresponsive silence.

 

“What do you want?” the child’s voice floated through the closed door.  Not the most auspicious of beginnings.

 

“I’d like to speak to you, if I may.”  I waited, not sure if he was going to let me in.  I probably wouldn’t have, if our positions were reversed.

 

Anakin was apparently made of better quality than I, because the door slid open.  He looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes, and I wanted to kick myself.  A lot.  I crossed the threshold, letting the door slide closed behind me.  Anakin walked back to the room’s sole bunk, sitting down on it before looking at me again.  “Sorry, Padawan Kenobi,” he said, waving his small hand idly around the tiny room.  “I’d let you sit down, but there’s not a whole lot of furniture in here.” 

 

His face was mild, but I had learned to read people years ago, and I had been taught by the best.  I sighed at the defensiveness in his posture and words.  “Anakin, I wish to apologize.”

 

“Why?” Anakin stared back, his chin thrust out.  “You just said what they all wanted to say back at the Temple.  I shouldn’t be trained because I’m too old, and I’m dangerous, and… and…” his voice broke, and Anakin sniffed back tears. 

 

My heart ached, and I promised myself that I was going to kick my own ass.  I didn’t seem to be able to watch my words, and now I was making children cry.  Ready for the Trials?  I snorted at the thought.  Not with my brilliant track record. 

 

I’d made this mess, and now I had to fix it.  “Anakin, do you know what prescience is?”

 

Anakin shook his head.  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that word before in my life.”

 

I stepped forward and knelt down in front of him, gazing at Anakin seriously.  “Prescience means that you have Foresight, that you can anticipate things before they happen.  In short, it means that you can see the future.”

 

“Oh, that,” Anakin said, his eyes lighting up with interest.  He was still wary, but he was giving me his full attention.  “Master Qui-Gon says it’s like seeing things before they happen, and Jedi are really good at it.  He says I can do that.”

 

“I’ve no doubt that you can,” I said, smiling a little.  “But what my Master mentioned is one of our basic strengths, and that comes from the Force.  Prescience is much more specific.  I have a very strong gift of Foresight, Anakin.  I see many things, whether I like it or not.  I look at people, and sometimes before I can see them, I see all of the paths that their lives could take, in the next few days or in the next few years.  I have been learning to control this ability, but sometimes it… it overwhelms me.”

 

“That doesn’t sound like fun,” Anakin said, his brows furrowing.  “I think maybe I know what you mean.  I dreamed that I was going to become a Jedi.  I was sure it was going to happen!  It felt so real!”

 

“I have dreams like that, too, Anakin,” I said.  “I dream often about things that haven’t happened, or will happen, or might never happen.  Master Yoda, who you met when the Council tested you, says that the future is always in motion.  But I do not just dream about the future; I also see all of those possible paths when I’m awake.  When I met you, all I could see were the threads of those possibilities.  It was very hard to find the little boy underneath it all.”

 

“You… you don’t think I’m dangerous?” Anakin whispered, looking up at me as if afraid of the answer.

 

I shook my head, apologetic.  “I… I chose my words badly, Anakin.  I do not think you’re dangerous, but I see many threads that speak of danger in your future.  I’m no longer sure if that means that the danger is for you, or …” I trailed off.  I was not going to tell a nine year old boy that he could _become_ dangerous.

 

Anakin looked at me with huge blue eyes, and I realized that they were filling with tears.  “They scared me!” he cried out, and the tears fell.  “Why did they have to scare me, sir?  I didn’t do anything wrong!  I thought Jedi were supposed to be kind!”

 

Oh, hells.  I changed my mind.  I wasn’t going to kick my own ass anymore, but abusing the Council sounded like a fantastic idea.  “Come here,” I said, and drew a sobbing child into my arms.  Anakin gulped, coughed, and then cried harder. 

 

I held him, not caring that my tunics were being soaked.  I remembered what it felt like to be unwanted, to think that the people you respected had no use for you.  “I’m sorry, Anakin.  I really am.  You did not deserve to be subjected to that.”  In fact, I was no longer so certain that the Council was correct in disallowing Anakin’s training.  The power I could sense in Anakin’s tiny frame was enough to make me feel like I’d plugged my hand into an electrical socket.  The threads of danger– were they numerous because Anakin goes untrained, and becomes one of the most dangerous rogue Force wielders the galaxy had ever known?  I had no idea, and neither did anyone else.  For Force’s sake, he was a _child_.

 

I owed my Master an apology, for that if nothing else.  I was going to have to do a lot of meditating to bury my anger at being so disregarded, but I could manage.  Force, how could I find someone so infuriating and yet still be so in love with him?

 

Anakin’s sobbing had tapered off, and he sat back, wiping his eyes with his sleeves.  “Uhm, sorry, sir,” he said, looking at my disheveled tunic.

 

“My name is Obi-Wan,” I said, giving Anakin a smile.  “Stop calling me sir.”

 

“Uhm, yessir– I mean, yes, Obi-Wan.”  Anakin grinned back, and the expression made his entire face light up.  Underneath all of those threads, he really was a delight.

 

Maybe I could be friends with this child, after all. 

 

 

****    ****    ****    ****

 

 

I finished speaking with Panaka, restraining a wry grin.  I had the feeling the Captain didn’t like me very much.  He seemed to have odd feelings about people my age serving in such dangerous situations.  I was hard pressed not to point out that, at twenty-five, he was only five years my senior.  It probably wouldn’t endear me to him.

 

I found Qui-Gon staring off into the woods, his gaze distant and cool.  I looked at him for a moment and then spoke.  “Jar Jar is on his way to the Gungan city, Master.”  Not that Qui-Gon wouldn’t have known that, but it was the only thing I could think of to say.  We had not spoken more than two words to each other in days. 

 

“Good,” he said, though it was obvious that his thoughts were elsewhere.  I gritted my teeth and plowed on– the tension between us was becoming unbearable.  “Do you think the Queen’s idea will work?”

 

That pinged Qui-Gon’s interest enough for him to turn towards me, though his words were clipped.  “The Gungans will not be easily swayed, and we cannot use our power to help her.”

 

No, I didn’t think it would come to that.  I had a feeling that we were going to be far too busy keeping everyone alive to worry about attacking the Federation ourselves.  At least I had his attention, though.  I swallowed every bit of wounded pride and anger.  “I’m sorry for my behavior, Master.  It is not my place to disagree with you about the boy.”  That wasn’t exactly true, but at the moment I didn’t care to argue semantics.  “I am grateful that you think I am ready for the Trials.”

 

Qui-Gon smiled at me, and suddenly his eyes were suffused with warm and love, so much so that it nearly took my breath away.  For once I could see everything that I thought lay between us, though no words had ever been spoken.  “You have been a good apprentice, Obi-Wan, and you are a much wiser man than I.”  That startled me, for I could tell that he meant every word.  I did not consider myself wise in any way.  “I foresee you will become a great Jedi Knight.”

 

I raised an eyebrow at that, and would have spoken, but we were all distracted by Jar Jar Binks, approaching with the news that Otah Gungah was deserted.

 

I didn’t know why, but I had the distinct impression that Qui-Gon had just _lied_ to me.  That was one thing he had never done– not in all our years together.  Worse, I wasn’t sure which of us the lie was meant for. 

 

 

****    ****    ****    ****

 

 

My lungs burned, my jaw ached, and everything in me wanted to just curl up somewhere and sleep for a week.  I looked up; Qui-Gon was still dueling that thing with the light staff.  I grimaced.  I’d left my Master to fight that abomination alone, and he was as tired as I was.  _Not acceptable._

 

I took a deep breath, reached for the Force, and pulled myself back up onto the walkway.  Then I leapt up, landing with a jarring thud on the platform I’d been kicked off of.  I ran for the corridor, trying to catch up to them.  I bit back a curse as red walls of energy began to slam into place, dividing the corridor into sections— and I was trapped at the end of it.

 

Through the layers of red haze, I watched the Zabrak Sith pace back and forth in front of the lone barrier that separated him from my Master.  He sneered at Qui-Gon, and I watched as Qui-Gon shut down his lightsaber and kneeled on the floor, breathing deeply.

 

I wished I could be that collected. I paced back and forth in front of the barrier, too wound up to think of sitting down.  I had no idea how long the barriers would be in place, and I wanted to be ready to run forward.  _Master?_ I called, wanting to plan our next move. 

 

I received no answer.  Frowning, I tried again.   _Qui-Gon?_   I touched the training bond and recoiled, stunned.

 

Qui-Gon had shut it down. 

 

I stared at him, horrified.  _Qui-Gon!_ I yelled, broadcasting through the Force, putting all of my strength behind the call.  _Answer me, you arrogant bastard!  You can’t do this alone!_   I gritted my teeth as black certainty welled up within me.  _He’s going to kill you, do you hear me?  He’s going to KILL you!  Wait for me!_

 

The energy walls cycled open, and Qui-Gon was on his feet in an instant, parrying the first blow the Sith landed on his lightsaber.  I ran as fast as I could, exhaustion pulling at me so much that I couldn’t even use the Force to increase my speed.  I let out a cry of frustration as the last energy wall slammed up in my face.  Qui-Gon and the Sith were dueling at a frantic pace, and I was forced to watch as they danced around each other, avoiding the pit in the center of the room.

 

 _Just hold on a minute longer,_ I said desperately, though I knew in my heart that Qui-Gon wasn’t listening.  All I needed was one minute more.  The walls would cycle, and I would be able to help—

 

I saw the blow coming, and couldn’t even warn him.  Qui-Gon stumbled back, and the Sith imbedded his lightsaber in Qui-Gon’s chest.

 

I screamed, not even aware I was doing so.  I met Qui-Gon’s eyes, saw stunned surprise and pain, and watched, helpless, as he fell to the floor.  _No,_ I thought, over and over.  _This cannot be.  I will not_ let _this be.  Qui-Gon!_ I yelled again, knowing my Master still lived.

 

There was a response, so faint I almost didn’t hear it.  _I have failed you…_

 

 _You haven’t failed unless you die on me, you … you…_  Words failed me.   _Stay alive, damn you!_

 

Qui-Gon didn’t speak again, but I thought I sensed vague agreement.  I looked directly into the Zabrak’s eyes, then, who smiled back at me, mocking.  I felt a cold certainty spread through my body. 

 

 _You are a dead man,_ I said, allowing the thought to broadcast, and the Sith sneered and spun the lightstaff with perfect confidence.

 

“Come and get me, then,” he replied, his voice a soft whisper of malice.

 

We stared at each other through the red walls, and the Sith slapped the blade of his staff against the energy field just to make it spit and crackle.  When the barrier fell I was out into the room, and every bit of training and intensity I had ever possessed was with me, and more.  The Force was singing in my veins as I parried blows and landed them with a speed I didn’t know I was capable of.  My mind was intent, my purpose was clear:  The bastard was in my way.

 

A slip and a misstep, and I ducked out of the way, only to fall prey to a massive Force shove that slammed into my chest, knocking me off of my feet.  I fell into the pit, and scrabbled for a hold, finding a protrusion on the pit wall.  I clung to it with all of my strength, my feet floundering for a moment as I searched for a place to stand.  There was nothing but smooth metal wall.  My chest ached so badly that breathing was painful, but I gasped in breath after breath, calming myself.

 

I looked up, and the Sith was standing above me, confident in the kill, as he kicked my lightsaber into the pit.

 

I saw it fall, incinerated by the pit’s heat fields somewhere below before I could call it back.

 

The Sith swung his light staff again, growling, because I remained just out of his reach.  Sparks flew, and I ducked my head, wincing as the molten bits of metal landed on my neck.  This had to end.  Lightsaber, needed a lightsaber…  I stretched out with my senses, searching for what I knew was there—

 

—and found it near Qui-Gon’s side, the multi-crystal blade impinging on my senses with a whisper of power.  I knew exactly what I was going to do.

 

I grinned up at the Sith, whose snide expression dropped into puzzlement.  I guess I wasn’t supposed to be so happy about being at his mercy.

 

I touched the lightsaber with the Force, making sure I would be able to call it to my hand, and then I gathered myself and leapt.

 

I flew out of the pit, sailing over the Zabrak’s head with ease.  Qui-Gon’s lightsaber smacked into my hand, and I ignited it and swept the blade around in one smooth motion.

 

The Sith made a startled noise, living just long enough to stare at me in shock before he toppled into the pit in two pieces.

 

I stared into the pit, almost giddy with elation.  I was alive; the Sith wasn’t. 

 

Then I stopped caring, dropped Qui-Gon’s lightsaber and rushed over to my Master’s side.  “Qui-Gon,” I whispered, stunned anew by the charred wound on his chest.

 

I didn’t care how exhausted I was.  I called upon the Force.  I wasn’t as good at healing as Terza, or even Qui-Gon, but I was damned if I wasn’t going to try.  I touched my Master with the Force and found myself inexplicably blocked.  _Gods, what have you done, Qui-Gon?_

 

He spoke to me, despite the effort it cost, despite the pain I could sense.  “It’s… it’s too late…”

 

 _No!_   “No—!”  _Stop talking, just_ shut up _, let me help you!_

 

Qui-Gon merely smiled at me, and I was bewildered by the sense of peace I felt, for I did not share it.  “Obi-Wan…” I bit my lip, gazing down at him through the haze of my own tears.  “Promise me… promise me that you will train the boy.”

 

“Yes, Master,” I said, nodding frantically.  At that moment I would have promised him anything and everything, whether it was in my power to grant it or not.  _I promise,_ I sent, my throat locked solid in grief.  _I’ll do anything you want, just please don’t—_

 

My Qui-Gon was single-minded and stubborn, even as he lay dying in my arms.  He touched my face then, a fiery brand of sensation.  He was the one dying– how could his touch be so warm while my own skin felt like ice?  “He… is the Chosen One.  He will… bring Balance.”

 

I didn’t care.  Nothing was more important to me than Qui-Gon.  I grasped his hand, opening my mouth to say something– anything–

 

And then all of my chances were taken from me as I felt life and spirit flee.

 

 

                                    ****    ****    ****    ****

 

 

I stared at nothing, long after I’d shut the comm unit off.  The entire Council was coming to Naboo.  They wanted to pay their respects, despite the fact that my Master had infuriated that august body on so many occasions I had lost count.

 

There was no one else who would be attending my Master’s funeral.  When I had asked about Dooku, Mace Windu and Yoda had exchanged a strange glance and said that the other Master was ‘unavailable’.  Kimal Daarc, I had tried to contact myself, but nobody on Ithor knew where the Master’s latest crystal-hunting trip had taken him.  It was likely that Qui-Gon’s first apprentice knew something that happened, but even if he left the planet now, Kimal would never make it in time.

 

My Master’s wishes in the matter of his death had always been made clear to me.  I hadn’t minded hearing him speak of it before, because at the time, it had seemed practical.  Qui-Gon and I lived dangerous lives, more so than most of the other Jedi in the Order.  He had known my wishes as well, and I had been surprised, once, to discover that they were similar.  If we fell in battle, we both wished to be immolated where we fell.  Transporting dead bodies back to Coruscant seemed frivolous to us both.

 

I felt numb.  No, I was too far gone for that.  Numb would have been a step up.  I curled my hands into fists, not noticing that my nails were digging into my palms enough to hurt.  I’d notice that later, when I would find eight blood-filled indentations in my skin.

 

I needed to remember the words, but they refused to come, despite the fact that I had learned the ancient Jedi language only one year ago.  I did not want to speak the ritual farewell over Qui-Gon’s body.  I did not.  It was too final.  I did not want to think about the fact that in three days, at sundown, I was going to have to light his pyre.  I dreaded that moment with every fiber of my being, which was funny, because it was something that I would allow no one else to do in my place. 

 

I bit my tongue so hard it hurt, feeling the careful walls I had built around my grief threaten to tumble.  I could not let that happen.  If I lost control, I was never going to find it again.  I shored up the walls until I was certain that I was not going to fall apart.

 

“Obi-Wan?”

 

I turned my head, feeling tendons creak in protest, to see Queen Amidala standing in the doorway to the Palace’s communications room.  She had once again masked herself behind the ritual face paint, but her black shirt and skirt were much less formal than the outfits the young ruler usually wore.  She smiled at me, a sad gesture that matched the grief in her eyes.  It was funny; she seemed to be taking my Master’s death the hardest of all of us.  “I thought you would like to know– a local mortician has undertaken the task of preparing the body, and will place… place him in stasis until it is time.”

 

 

She nodded.  “I… can I do anything for you?” she asked, and I realized she was worried about me.  It was flattering.  Though, to be honest, I was worried about me, too.  “Is there anything I can do?” she asked again.

 

I thought about all of the repair work going on around the capital, and the need for able bodies.  “Put me to work,” I said.  “I don’t care what it is– I’ll do anything that needs doing.”  If I kept busy, I didn’t have to think.  Thinking was something I wanted to avoid.  The less I thought about Qui-Gon’s words…  I stomped on that line of thought before it could even form.

 

“You have done so much for us already,” Padmé said, and I could feel her gearing up for an argument, to tell me that I should take time, that everything would be taken care of.

 

“I don’t care.  Put me to work, or I’ll find it on my own,” I said, my voice harsher than I had intended.

 

She sighed, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears.  “All right.  Check with Captain Panaka.  He’s organizing the volunteers to clean up the camps.  I’ll keep Anakin with me, because that is something he does not need to see.”

 

I nodded in response, though Anakin would eventually see far worse in his life as a Jedi.  I intended on keeping my promise.

 

It was the only thing left that I could do.

 

 

                                    ****    ****    ****    ****

 

 

“Tell me what happened, you will?” Yoda said to me, gazing up at me with kind eyes.  It was almost enough to break the wall of my grief.  If people kept being so damned nice to me, I was going to crumble.  “Heard you speak to the Council already, I have.”  I smiled, because it had been funny to see the Council’s reserve and respect give way to indignance when I had told them that as soon as I was Knighted, Anakin was to become my Padawan.

 

Yoda’s ears twitched, as if he sensed my line of thought.  “Speak to me as you would a friend, you can.  Here for you, I always am.”

 

I turned my face away, pained by Yoda’s gentle words.  It was easier to keep my focus when I was staring at nothing.  “I feel betrayed, Master,” I said, not even realizing I was going to speak until I did so.

 

“Why do you feel this way, hmm?”

 

“Because…” I struggled with my words, because underneath my grief I knew that anger lurked.  I was not going to cry, dammit!  “I followed the damned Code as I should, and I waited and held my peace, and what I receive in return is… nothing.”  Nothing.  That was putting it mildly.  I shut my mouth firmly, holding back the wail that wanted to emerge.  I wished for nothing more than to curl up in some dark corner and give vent to all of my grief.  That was something denied me. 

 

Yoda and I had spoken once before about my love for my Master, and the ancient Master had been very pleased by my decision to honor the Code.  In fact, Yoda had seemed pleased in general that I was so hopelessly in love with my Master, as if I’d fulfilled some unknown duty.  Maybe I had.  “There is no death, young Obi-Wan.  There is the Force,” he said now, and the words echoed in the room we had chosen to speak in.  I sighed; the next time I wanted privacy, I was going to find a room a bit less cavernous.

 

I closed my eyes.  “Know this, I do.”  It was little consolation, and meant nothing in comparison to what I had once hoped for.  Those hopes had been dashed, both by my Master having the graciousness to die in my arms, and by everything he had not said in those final moments.

 

“Loved you, Qui-Gon Jinn did,” Yoda said, poking me in the ribs with his gimer stick.  “Doubt that you should not.”

 

I met Yoda’s eyes, and saw the firm belief there.  Something within me quailed, and I barked out a sob, clamping one hand over my mouth and struggling to breathe through the difficulty of pushing everything back down.  Yoda was very dear to me, and I loved him, but I was _not_ going to break down in front of the old Master.

 

Yoda waited patiently as I regained control of myself, and I even managed a smile for him.  “I will choose to believe you, Master,” I said, that being the safest response I could come up with. 

 

Yoda nodded, pacing across the floor, and the taps of his gimer stick echoed off of the walls.  He seemed to be thinking, and I let him, though my knees ached from kneeling on the tiled floor for so long. 

 

“Confer on you, the rank of Jedi Knight, the Council does,” Yoda said, and I nodded, half-smiling.  In the privacy of my own thoughts, though, I don’t think I could have cared less.  I would very happily trade my Knighthood for Qui-Gon’s life, a dozen times over and more.

 

“But,” Yoda said, and here I sensed the cusp of his thoughts were about to be revealed.  “Agree with you taking this boy as your Padawan learner, I do not!”

 

“Qui-Gon believed in him,” I said, and Yoda glared at me.

 

“The Chosen One the boy may be,” he admitted.  “But, grave danger I fear in his training!”

 

 _And I feel grave danger if we don’t train him,_ I thought, annoyed.  In that matter, we were at an impasse.  However, I had the advantage of not giving a damn what anyone else said– I was going to do what I promised.  “I gave Qui-Gon my word.  I will train Anakin, Master, without the Council’s permission if I must.”

 

Yoda snorted.  “Qui-Gon’s defiance I sense in you.  Need that you do not.”

 

It was almost enough to make me laugh, but I did not.  Yoda wasn’t finished.  “Agree with you the Council does.  Your apprentice, young Skywalker will be.”

 

I inclined my head in acceptance, even though my skin crawled at his words.  They sounded far too damned prophetic for my liking.

 

 

                                    ****    ****    ****    ****

 

 

I was holding tightly to my braid with my left hand, and a knife was gripped in my right hand.  I was pulling on my hair so much that it hurt, but I didn’t notice.

 

I looked at Qui-Gon’s body, arranged on the stone bier, and tried very hard not to think at all.  I was going to have no choice but to say goodbye, and at that moment, I hated Qui-Gon Jinn.  I hated him for all of the nonsense that kept us from being together, for the stupid sniping, and for the fact that I could not, even now, speak of everything in my own heart.

 

It didn’t help that I could sense nothing of my Master remaining.  I had heard that sometimes presences and spirits lingered, but it didn’t seem to be true in his case. 

 

I reached up and sliced my braid with one clean cut, nicking my scalp with the blade as I did so, but I didn’t feel that, either.  I would only notice later, when warm blood trickled down my neck and stained my tunics.

 

The braid draped from my left hand, a long rope of auburn.  It seemed monumentally unfair that everything Qui-Gon and I had done together had no other representation than seven years’ worth of hair growth. 

 

Tears burned in my eyes as I stepped forward, tucking the knife back into my belt as I did so.  I touched Qui-Gon’s hands, and felt cold, unyielding flesh beneath my fingers.  For some reason, this eased me, and I continued with what I needed to do without hesitation. 

 

I wrapped my braid tenderly around his hands, giving him what he had so justly earned.  He was responsible for everything that I was, and everything that I would become, and it was the only gift that I could now give.  I dropped a kiss down onto those hands, uncaring of the small audience of mourners that gathered in the mausoleum.

 

 

    1. Ni domtian a laicee.”   The knot of grief in my chest did not ease, but I lit the pyre with the torch that Mace handed me with hands that did not tremble.



 

 

_Farewell, my teacher.  May the Force bring you peace._

 

 _Hai’thathrae, mi pa’amourte,_ I thought.

 

_Farewell, my love._


End file.
